No Backward Glances
by madiamazing
Summary: 2004 film inspired: What might have happened if the Phantom had not received the kiss that caused him to let Christine go free? How will Christine adjust to a life with a man who built their relationship on deception? Will she be able to resist the undeniable attraction between them? E/C EDITED/COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**This was my very first fan fiction ever in the history of life, and it is now completely edited and rewritten! YAY! The same story as the original is being told, of course, but I think the changes were definitely for the better, and I hope you all feel the same. This story is completely based on/inspired by the 2004 movie version of Phantom of the Opera, and I wanted to write a fic where they stayed as close to those characters as possible (i.e. soft, gentle, timid Christine and *mostly* soft Erik), but with growth throughout. I really hope returning readers like the new version, and of course that new readers also enjoy.** **The rating is T to start, but will change to M as the story goes on. There will be lots of angst, fluff, drama, and shameless E/C goodness. As always, don't hesitate to let me know what you think. Any feedback is welcome and encouraged. :)**

 **Summary: 2004 film inspired: What might have happened if the Phantom had not received the kiss that caused him to let Christine go free? How will Christine adjust to a life with a man who built their relationship on deception? Will she be able to resist the undeniable attraction between them?**

 **Thanks so much for reading! I really hope you enjoy, and please, don't forget to review!**

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 ** _~No Backward Glances~_**

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Chapter 1

"You try my patience. Make your choice."

The man tightened the rope that was connected to her fiancé's throat to emphasize his statement, his eyes tortured and wild, and her heart broke for him, and for herself.

Her racing heart slowed as she moved her gaze to Raoul, tears dripping down her face, and it was then that she knew what she had to do. Christine knew deep in her soul that she would not, could not let her fiancé die for her. She felt that, since she had an undeniable connection to this other man—her Angel, the Phantom—it simply would not be right for Raoul to die, not for her. Not at all.

Her choice was made.

Christine took a shuddering breath, mouthed the words "I love you" to Raoul, and gave him a small, sad smile. She walked through the shallow water to the Phantom, gazing into his piercing, ocean eyes all the while, feeling unafraid for once. She had made her decision, and she was confident that it was right. His eyes only widened as she gently took the rope from his hand, dropped it into the water, and then placed her hand in its place in his, warm and rough.

"I choose you," she whispered shakily.

She watched as he stared at her with parted lips, until an unfathomable expression formed on his face, stemming confusion, awe, and…love, most of all. It made her wounded heart squeeze, and that confused her. For an immeasurable moment, they simply stood there, staring, Raoul's labored breathing sounding in the background.

As if remembering himself, he closed his mouth, swallowing, obviously trying to hold himself together, but she saw how his eyes filled with tears of gratitude, of disbelief…of triumph.

She gasped when he grabbed her free hand with sudden urgency, finding the ring that she had been holding since he'd returned it to her. He took it, placed it on the third finger of her left hand, and then placed an excited kiss on that hand, holding it as if it were precious, fragile. She could tell that this moment meant everything to him, and it meant a lot to her, too.

The eagerness he exuded nearly broke her then and there, but she kept her composure somehow. She lifted her free hand and cupped the perfect side of his face, her breath hitching when he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. When his eyes opened again and found hers, Christine's throat closed up. The look he gave her in that moment…it was as if he were a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. She knew that whatever happened in their new life together, at least she would be adored.

"M-may I say goodbye?" Christine asked hesitantly, glancing at Raoul quickly. After a moment, the man nodded and walked through the water, away from them, giving them a moment alone. She was surprised but grateful, and Christine ran over to Raoul and untied him.

The second he was free of the ropes they embraced, and she could feel the sobs breaking through his chest. Tears were already falling freely down her cheeks.

"Why…" she heard Raoul whisper hoarsely. "You should have let him kill me. I cannot live without you, Christine." His words only made her cry harder, but she found the strength to pull away from their embrace and look him in his heartbroken, tired eyes.

"And I would not be able to live knowing that I am at fault for your death," she said intensely, trying to make him understand. He let out a heavy breath, his head hanging, unable to look at her for a moment.

"Raoul? Please, do you understand?"

Finally, Raoul looked up and nodded once. "I…I can understand your reasoning. But how I am I supposed to go on, knowing that you are being held captive?" His voice quivered, threatening tears once again.

Christine took his face in her hands gently and said, "I chose this, Raoul. Please, just imagine me happy. Know that I am taken care of." He did not look convinced. "He…he will not hurt me," she added. "I am sure of it."

Raoul shook his head, about to protest, but they were interrupted.

"Christine," the Phantom's voice boomed from across the room. "We must go."

She took Raoul in her arms once more, placing a lingering kiss on his cheek, and whispered in his ear, "There will never be a day when I won't think of you."

They both cried in each others arms for a moment until they felt the gate behind Raoul start to open.

"You may take the boat," the man said to Raoul, never taking his eyes off Christine. He then beckoned to her with his hand, "Come, Christine."

She wiped away the remainder of her tears, trying to give an assuring smile to Raoul but only managing a sad, wistful glance. "Goodbye, Raoul," she whispered. His heartbroken, lifeless expression was difficult for Christine to see a second longer, so she turned and walked through the water, towards the Phantom, the man…towards her new life.


	2. Chapter 2

**The chapters are going to be pretty short to start, but I promise they will get longer. Thank you so much for reading, and please review!**

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Chapter 2

Christine approached the Phantom, turning once to find Raoul stumbling weakly towards the boat. He threw tortured backward glances to her, but soon reached the boat and was on his way. It was with a sinking stomach that Christine realized it was the last time she would see her childhood sweetheart, and she choked on a gasp.

Swallowing her tears, she knew it was useless to cry now. She needed to accept her fate, and look forward. She could _not_ believe that all hope was lost. She would not be able to survive if she thought that way.

When Raoul was out of sight, Christine turned to face the man before her, feeling quite small next to him.

"Where are we to go?" she asked quietly.

"I have a house just outside of the city," he began, his eyes searching her face, trying to figure out what she was thinking. "We will go there."

Christine nodded. The man could sense that she was about to speak again, so he did not move from where he was standing, waiting patiently.

Hesitantly, she asked him, "What…what is your name?" She was slightly embarrassed at the fact that she had never learned his name, especially now that they were… _engaged._ Her stomach fluttered nervously at the realization.

"Erik," he replied simply. "But you may call me whatever you would like, Christine."

She marveled at the way he said her name. It was as if his velvety voice became a caress around it, making it sound like music without even singing. And then, she snapped out of the distraction, angry with herself for succumbing so easily to his voice. She should hate this man, should she not? Why on earth was she feeling pleased at the way he said her name?

She pushed those thoughts away…

"Very well, Erik." Christine looked down shyly as she said his name, wringing her hands together nervously. He found it quite endearing. Erik raised a hand to stroke her hair, but dropped it when she flinched slightly. He released a frustrated breath and began preparing to leave.

Erik gathered his most important items and put them in a chest: his music box, his opera, _Don Juan_ , and all the money he had hidden within the lair, and other miscellaneous items. He had previously made sure that everything else they would need would already be at the house… _their house_. He was eager to leave, feeling no attachment to the underground home.

When he passed by the mirror Christine had uncovered previously, he realized that he still had not replaced his mask or wig. He flinched in disgust. Was that why Christine had shied away from his touch…? He searched frantically for his disguise.

She watched him as he prepared for them to leave, unable to help but be fascinated by the way he moved. How could one so tall and strong move so gracefully? She also could not help but steal glances at his muscular build, only covered by his thin, white shirt…

 _No, Christine. Stop._ Again, she began to feel angry with herself. _Stop looking at him like that._

He noticed her watching him, beginning to feel very self-conscious. He stepped away from her view to replace his wig and usual white mask, quickly putting them on. He also donned a suit coat and cape, and of course, his leather gloves.

Christine sighed sadly when he emerged again with his usual disguise. She had already told him that it was not his face that scared her, but rather his tortured soul.

Would he continue to be destructive in their new life together? She could not imagine how if they were to go away alone, but still, the thought worried her.

They began to hear the sounds of a mob approaching: angry chants and stomping steps. Erik moved more quickly, snagging an extra cape for Christine and bringing it over to her. The shouting got louder and louder, and he could see how frightened she was becoming. He secured the cape around her, his hands resting on her shoulders for a brief moment.

"Do not be afraid, Angel," he said, his voice incredibly soft as his eyes frantically searched the area. "I would never let anything hurt you."

She could not respond.

Erik then did the strangest thing: he picked up a candleholder and walked over to a large covered mirror, pulling off the heavy drape and letting it fall to the ground. Before Christine could even question what he was going to do, he smashed the mirror with the object twice, the loud crashes making her jump. Within seconds, the mirror was shattered completely, shards of glass scattered all over the floor, and she gaped.

He dropped the candleholder, his breathing heavy from his exertions, and picked up the chest filled with his belongings, holding it securely with one arm. He beckoned to Christine with his free hand and said, "Come."


	3. Chapter 3

**Read and review, please. :)**

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Chapter 3 

Christine was frozen, still shocked that Erik had broken the mirror, but the shouts of the mob grew dangerously in volume, and she knew they had little time before they would be discovered. She walked hurriedly to Erik and took his offered hand, and he led her quickly through the secret passageway, pausing only to replace the drape, covering their escape route. The dark, cold corridor intimidated her, and she clung to Erik's hand tighter.

She stared at their joined hands as they made their hasty departure, reminded of earlier that night when he had violently dragged her down to his lair. Now, though he was jogging quickly, he was gentle and patient with her slower pace…well, then again she was not resisting like she had been the last time. Would he be so courteous if she were still struggling? For that question, she was unsure.

And then, Christine wondered…what would happen when they got to their new home? That thought made her extremely nervous, her calm from earlier completely forgotten.

They ran in the dark for what seemed like an eternity. As the air got colder and colder, Christine prayed it meant that they were nearing an exit. She was exhausted, and she wished that they could have walked instead. How long had it been since she slept last? It felt as if she had not slept for weeks leading up to the Phantom's opera, too terrified to know what it would bring. It was almost surreal to realize that the event had passed, and she was living in the aftermath.

They soon approached a wooden staircase that looked homemade, and Christine's breath came out in heavy gasps, winded from running so long. Her feet aching and her lungs burning, she had to slow to a walk, and Erik looked down at her in concern.

"Not much longer, my dear," he assured her, slowing down to walk with her. "Once we reach the top of those stairs, we will not be far from where I keep my horse."

She nodded, taking deeper breaths, trying to slow her breathing. His horse…Christine recalled the night when she had met the Phantom face-to-face for the first time. On the journey to his lair, she briefly remembered riding a majestic, black as midnight horse. Would it be the same one?

Erik saw the tiny spark of excitement in her eyes at the mention of the animal, and he turned away to hide a smile. He let Christine go first up the stars, taking care to be ready to catch her if she were to faint or trip—for she looked terribly exhausted—and soon they were out in the dark, wintry night.

Christine surveyed her surroundings, confused to find that they were in the middle of a forest, no sound or trace of civilization near. Had they really gone that far?

Erik took her hand again to lead her deeper into the forest, walking slow this time for her sake. He must have been confident that they'd lost the mob. Her breath returned to normal, but her body still ached, and the lack of activity made her shiver. She clutched Erik's cape tighter around her with her free hand, catching a whiff of a scent that could only be described as _him._ It was not unpleasant. Not at all.

They soon reached a break in the trees and entered a small meadow, illuminated by the full moon, with a stable just big enough for one horse in the center of the space.

"Wait here," he said, letting go of her hand after squeezing it gently. He pushed open the heavy wooden door, and Christine could just barely make out the form of the pitch dark horse waiting inside for his master. "This is Caesar." She almost smiled, knowing that this horse and the one from that night so long ago was the same. After a brief but affectionate petting, Erik began preparing the horse for their journey.

He saddled Caesar quickly, attaching the chest of his belongings to the creature as well. Christine found herself watching Erik once again, specifically his gloved hands as they worked, so strong and capable…

No. She should not think about the specifics of what his hands were capable of, not right now. She mentally scolded herself for the second time tonight, wondering what on Earth was going on with her. She rubbed her eyes, thinking perhaps she was just too tired to function properly.

Once finished, Erik led Caesar to where Christine stood, turning to assist her in mounting the horse. He froze at the sight of her, however, and she stared up at him with a questioning look, noticing his pause. The moonlight had caused her porcelain skin to glow in a most lovely way, her deep brown curls framing her perfectly symmetrical face and her chocolate eyes contrasting with her skin in a way that made her look absolutely, heartbreakingly beautiful. His stomach clenched, her beauty so profound that it actually, physically hurt.

Erik's sudden lack of movement did not go unnoticed by Christine, and he was staring at in her in the strangest way…

"What is it?" she asked curiously, studying his masked face, trying to figure out what was wrong.

And…why did the look in his eyes make her feel feverish?

Erik did not realize what he was doing as he reached out to caress her face, but was pleased when she did not flinch away. He took that as a sign that she did not mind it so much.

Her breath hitched when he touched her, but not from fear. No, this was…something else entirely.

"Oh, Christine," Erik murmured, the pain and disbelief evident in his hypnotic voice. "You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. Are you truly here with me?"

She trembled at his voice, at his touch, even though the leather of his gloves covered his fingers. The emotions she was experiencing feared and confused her, her heart racing and her knees weak. She felt as if one more minute of him looking at her like that would melt her where she stood.

Christine refused to speak for fear of her voice showing her sudden weakness, so she simply nodded, swallowing.

They stayed like that, Erik marveling at Christine's beauty and she trying to maintain her composure, for a long moment. He eventually snapped out of his trance, pulled his hand away and hoisted her onto Caesar without warning. She gasped at the sudden movement and tried to keep her balance atop the horse.

"My apologies," Erik said, his voice rough, and her cheeks heated. He gracefully mounted Caesar behind her, and they were on their way.


	4. Chapter 4

**Please enjoy this chapter, and don't forget to review. :)**

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Chapter 4 

The freezing night air bit at her face as they rose hastily through the forest, but Erik's warmth felt nice against her back.

Christine thought of Raoul, hoping that he had made his way home by now. Was he resting? Was he in pain? She replayed their goodbye over in her mind, forcing back tears. As if she had the energy to cry anymore tonight. _It was the only way,_ she thought, trying to justify her decision. She did not let herself linger on those thoughts for long, knowing that they would only upset her more.

She let her mind wander; ending up at the night she had first met Erik.

That night was the beginning of this whole journey, she realized. She remembered how he had sung for her. His voice…it was truly the most beautiful sound she had ever heard, and knowing that it came from a flesh and blood man ignited a fire inside of her that she had never known could exist. That night had been so confusing, but…exciting. How had their relationship changed from teacher and student to something else entirely in such a short amount of time? She could not deny the intense feelings she had experienced the second their hands touched, only growing as the night wore on and she knew that her Angel was a _man_.

And then, she thought about her feelings for Raoul, unable to help but compare the two. Her feelings for Raoul were natural, simple…easy. He made her feel safe and loved, and she knew that a life with him would have been comfortable, happy.

But with Erik…their connection was something else entirely. It was passionate, powerful, terrifying, even. His feelings for her were so intense that it caused him to do unspeakable things! He murdered two men, pretended to be her dead father, set the opera house on fire, nearly killed her fiancé…

And now, she was in his arms, heading to their home, their new life together. Now she was to marry _him_. Christine pondered these things as they rode on, surprised that she was not panicking. She was still in shock and absolutely exhausted, and she needed to think about something else to avoid having a breakdown.

She rested her head against Erik's shoulder, gazing up at the moon and stars as they rode. The moon was especially bright tonight and the beauty of it nearly took her breath away. Her eyes began to feel heavy, drooping closed without her permission. _I'll just rest them for a moment,_ she thought, and that was her last thought for a while.

"Christine," Erik spoke softly into her ear. "Look."

Her eyes fluttered open, her brain foggy. It took a moment for her eyes to focus on the dark shape in the distance, knowing it must be her new home. It was bigger than she had imagined it to be. Two stories tall, made with dark red bricks and a medieval looking black trim. It was intimidating, but very fashionable.

 _Just like him,_ she thought, and that thought would have made her giggle if she were not so emotionally and physically exhausted.

"Wow," Christine murmured quietly, "It…suits you, Erik."

He was unsure how to take that statement.

"I designed it," he stated. "For…for us."

That surprised her. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, but she was much too tired to bring one to her lips. She could scarcely keep her eyes open.

Erik rode them to the stable located in the back left corner of the lot, not speaking any more, her silence making him think he had said too much. He dismounted, helping Christine down and avoiding her eyes before removing the equipment attached to the horse. He checked the stable, making sure it was stocked with food and water for Caesar, which of course it was, and hung up the riding equipment inside. He led his horse in and gave his nose a quick pet before shutting the large door, and then turned to face Christine.

She looked positively dead. Her eyes were half-closed, her body slightly swaying, trying not to fall over. It made him love her all the more.

Erik sighed longingly. How could she possibly be so alluring to him, even in this state? He did not think twice as he strode over to her and swept her up off the ground and into his arms.

She was much too tired to protest, too tired to even comprehend what was happening. She was fast asleep before they even entered the house.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter is from only Erik's point of view, so please enjoy! And, of course, let me know what you think. ;)**

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Chapter 5 

Erik savored Christine in his arms as he walked to the backdoors, the closest entrance from the stable. He managed to get one door open without disturbing or dropping her, and he carried her over the threshold, unable to remember a moment that had seemed quite so unreal. He could scarcely believe that she was finally here with him.

He carried the sleeping girl up the stairs and into the master bedroom; for his Christine deserved only the finest. The room was large and extravagant, with a luxurious bed centered on the east wall, its bedding ivory with golden accents. Directly across the room from the bed were French doors, covered with heavy, deep-red curtains, which led to a balcony that overlooked the backyard. The room was equipped with a closet filled with clothes for her, a dressing screen, a standing mirror, and a stone fireplace.

Erik hoped terribly that she would enjoy it, having picked everything with her in mind.

He gently laid Christine on the bed, removing only her shoes, and pulled the sheets and the plush comforter over her. He set a fire ablaze, wanting her to be warm and comfortable through the night and in the morning. She deserved it.

Finished, he turned to leave the room, but Christine's pull was much too strong. He hesitantly went to the bedside, staring down at her.

She was still deeply asleep, her breathing even and her lips parted slightly. She looked quite peaceful, which both pleased and surprised Erik.

 _So beautiful, so lovely,_ he thought, unable to believe that they were really in their new home together, that they had actually made it. He removed one glove and lightly stroked her smooth cheek, his fingers burning where they made contact.

 _She will never know…_

He leaned in slowly, hesitantly, unable to resist pressing the tiniest of kisses to her forehead. "Sleep well, my love," he whispered, and left the room. He touched his trembling lips as he quietly closed the door.

After fetching his chest of belongings from where he had left it outside, Erik brought it to the music room, located on the first floor, past the sitting room and kitchen. It was the largest room in the house, save for the main sitting/dining area, with dark walls lined with bookshelves that were filled with books, music, and his compositions. He took _Don Juan Triumphant_ out of the chest, placing it on the shelf nearest the massive piano in the far corner, next to the rest of his original music. He then retrieved the music box, taking a moment to admire one of his favorite creations before setting it on display atop the instrument.

Erik set a fire in the fireplace on the other side of the room from the piano, deciding he should bathe while the room warmed. He went to the washroom across the hall, running the water hot. He removed his mask first, followed by his wig, and slowly raised his head to glance at himself in the mirror.

Had Christine really seen this face and chose him anyway? Chose him despite his ugliness, inside and out…

No, he could not dwell on those thoughts for long. He would not make himself feel guilty, not tonight. He had finally felt true happiness for once in his life, and damn it, he would enjoy it. He removed the heavy cape he wore and threw it over the glass, shielding him from himself.

As he undressed, he thought about the opera. Had they really performed it just hours ago? It felt like it had been days. He thought about how Christine looked in the Aminta costume, how she sung the words he wrote so perfectly, how it felt to hold her in his arms, in front of an entire audience…in front of the boy.

How he could have sworn that she desired him like he did her…

It could not have all been an act, could it?

Erik pondered as he bathed, how could he make her realize that she needed him just as much as he needed her? He knew that they were meant to be, but she did not. At least not yet. He needed her to see that she could live a life full of love, passion, and music, with her true soul mate.

 _Yes, she is your soul mate, and you are hers,_ he assured himself.

Once he was clean, he returned to the music room and dressed in a black silk nightshirt and pants, followed by a thick, deep burgundy robe. He had thought it smart to sleep in here, knowing Christine would be uncomfortable if he chose to sleep near her. Luckily he had thought to stock his clothing down here as well. He lied on the chaise lounge next to the fireplace, laying his head on the soft cushion. It was a little short for his tall frame, but he had slept in much worse conditions.

Erik still could not quite believe that he was actually here, Christine with him, just as he had always dreamed. A real life Angel was _his_. How on Earth could he sleep with this knowledge?

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing, seeing _her_ behind his eyelids, smiling shyly at him. It took a while, but he fell asleep, and dreamt of _her_.


	6. Chapter 6

**If you've read this far, thank you so much! Please do not hesitate in leaving me reviews. Even if you just want to leave your thoughts, suggestions, advice, really anything at all! I would greatly appreciate it. :)**

 **Please enjoy this chapter.**

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Chapter 6

Christine shook with fear, her breath coming out it quick little gasps. She was in the Phantom's lair, watching Raoul get strangled before her eyes.

The rope around her fiancé's neck got tighter and tighter, and he was making direct eye contact with her, though his eyes were flat and emotionless. "Just let me die, Christine," Raoul told her monotonously, the dead look already on his face making her stomach twist. "If you do not, worse things will happen."

She shook her head in horror and disbelief, yelling, "No, Raoul! I cannot!"

The Phantom's voice caught her attention, menacing and cold. "What will it be, my dear?"

She looked at him in horror. He was wearing the dreadful skull mask and bright red costume she vaguely remembered he had worn at the Masquerade ball. He had a sadistic, mocking smile on his face, and before she could make her choice, he tightened the rope around Raoul's neck once more, and she heard the sickening _snap_.

She looked to Raoul, saw that it was too late…he did not breathe, did not move, his body now limp.

She screamed.

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Christine's scream is what woke her. She jolted awake, her body shaking and her heart pounding. _Calm down, Christine. It was only a nightmare._

She wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, gasping. Had last night actually happened then? Was she truly in the home of her new fiancé? She shuddered as she stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. Yes. Yes she was. Once she got her breathing under control, she surveyed the bedroom she was in.

It was…lovely. That she could not deny, even in the dull grey light of morning coming through the windows. The light, cream-colored walls were not what she was expecting, not quite Erik's style at all. But he was not here, was he? No, she had definitely slept alone on the huge bed that was madly comfortable. For some reason she had expected Erik to wed her immediately, and they would have to share a bed…

She was grateful that that had not been the case.

There were heavy looking drapes on the wall directly across from where she sat, and she got up, walking across the room and pushing the curtains aside. They were covering French doors, and there was a balcony just outside.

Looking out, she could see that her room faced the back of the house. She saw the large backyard, the stable off to the corner, and what appeared to be a garden in the very center of the enormous space.

 _A garden? How lovely!_ She vowed to explore it when she could, wondering how she could have missed it last night. She left the curtains open and observed the rest of the room. There was a dressing screen over by a large, stone fireplace, which had the remnants of the fire set last night, a few embers still dully glowing.

Christine stretched where she stood, feeling stiff and sore. Had she slept in her corset? She looked down to find that she was still dressed exactly how she had been last night: in the wedding gown Erik had made her put on and the cape he had leant her, missing only her shoes. A small smile played at her lips, thinking how gentlemanly he could be. She knew she had been right when she assured Raoul that he would not hurt her.

She untied the heavy cloak and let it fall, and was just about to survey the closet when she heard a knock.

Christine froze, and then took a deep breath and hesitantly went to the door, cracking it open. She expected Erik, but found a thin, handsome woman who looked to be in her forties instead. She had a slight olive complexion to her fair skin and she wore her black hair in a tight bun.

"Hello," the woman said, her deep, raspy voice friendly. "I am Adele, the housekeeper. You must be Miss Daaé?"

Christine opened the door further, allowing space for her to come in. "Yes," she answered, smiling shyly at the woman. "Christine. Lovely to meet you."

"Likewise, dear." Adele said as she entered. "Monsieur Destler has instructed me to help you dress. I have a bath ready for you in the washroom." Adele opened the closet door, finding a fresh pair of stockings and undergarments.

"Monsieur…Destler?"

Adele gave her a strange look. "He is your fiancé, no?"

 _Oh, his surname must be Destler then,_ Christine thought. "Right, of course," she said quickly, feeling silly. "You are…acquainted with him, then?"

"Well, not quite," Adele started. "We have a mutual friend, Madame Giry. You know her too, yes? She offered me this job on his behalf. She warned me that he could be quite mysterious; I had no idea that meant I would not be meeting him at all. He leaves me instructions in the form of notes." She shook her head and chuckled. "Strange. But he pays well, and I will not complain. Would you like to pick out something to wear, dear?"

Christine had known that Madame Giry and Erik knew each other on some level, but friends? She had so many unanswered questions. She vowed to get some answers from Erik as soon as she could.

The closet was filled with all kinds of dresses made with different colors and fine fabrics. She picked the first one her hands touched, not much in the mood to spend an hour deciding. It was a gown of a deep, midnight blue. "This one will do," Christine said.

"Lovely choice, Miss Daaé," Adele said approvingly, taking the gown and draping it over her arm. "Shall we?"

Adele motioned for Christine to follow. They walked down the narrow hallway to the last door on the right, entering a brightly lit bathroom with a darling vanity in the corner. Adele shut the door behind them and draped Christine's clothes over the vanity's chair. A large, porcelain bathtub was filled with steaming water, and Christine nearly cried at the sight. She felt dirty and sticky, eager to bathe. Adele assisted her in getting out of her dress and corset, until she was down to her undergarments.

"All right, dear, I will leave you to it." Adele began to leave, but paused. "Oh, I nearly forgot. Monsieur Destler wanted you to help yourself to any of the products in the cabinet." She pointed to the wooden hutch over by the vanity, and Christine nodded.

"Oh, thank you. I will."

"I will return when you are finished to help you dress," said Adele.

"Very well," Christine said. "Thank you."

Once she was alone, her curiosity got the better of her and she went to the hutch, opening it. It was filled with an array of extravagant creams and oils and soaps and scents, and she stared at them in awe. She had never been treated to such luxury, and she touched the pretty bottles, opening a few and inhaling their aromas, trying to choose which to indulge in.

She ended up pouring rose oil into her bath water, and choosing lavender scented soap to wash with. She removed her undergarments and sunk into the water, relieved to find it was still very warm. She cleansed her body quickly and gratefully, deciding her wild hair could use a washing as well.

By the time she was finished, the water had cooled and she was freezing. She got out of the tub and dried herself with a thick towel, shivering all the while. She slipped on the clean stockings and undergarments, and had just begun towel drying her hair when Adele knocked, signaling her return.

The housekeeper helped her dress, lacing her corset and checking with the girl to make sure it was not too tight. Once Christine was fully dressed, she thanked Adele warmly.

"I was afraid I would have to lace my corset on my own," Christine admitted. "I should have known…he would make sure I was taken care of."

Adele gave her a warm smile, "Ah, he loves you I see. Lucky girl."

Christine did not know what to say to that. This woman likely knew nothing about their situation. She looked away awkwardly, blushing.

Adele took that as her just being shy. "Come along, dear," she said. "There is breakfast for you downstairs."


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter is much longer than my previous ones! I hope that is okay. To the people who have reviewed so far, THANK YOU SO MUCH! It really means so much to me. I absolutely love reading your thoughts. :) Also, thank you to everyone else who has favorited, followed, or even read my story.**

 **I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It's definitely my favorite so far. Please review!**

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Chapter 7

Descending the wide staircase, Christine was greeted by a grand sitting room with fine furniture pieces and an intimate dining area in the corner. Even with the light coming through the windows, the room was dim and sultry, and very beautiful.

As if she expected anything less.

Adele instructed Christine to sit, and then disappeared to the kitchen to bring her breakfast. Christine admired the dark mahogany table and the soft chair she sat in for a moment before Adele returned with a silver tray. She poured Christine a cup of tea.

"Thank you," Christine said. After a moment, she asked hesitantly, "Would you like to sit with me? It would be nice to have some conversation."

Adele thought about it for a second and nodded, sitting. When else would she get the chance to relax at work?

Christine popped a tart berry into her mouth, and began buttering a croissant.

"If you do not mind me asking, how did you and Monsieur Destler come to meet?" Adele asked conversationally.

Christine had no idea where to start. If she told the whole story, Adele would definitely quit and inform the gendarme, and Erik would be furious. "The Opera House," she ended up saying vaguely. "He gave me voice lessons." She took a sip of tea, for her throat had gone dry.

"How romantic! You two found love through song, then?" Adele smiled, willing Christine to continue.

"I suppose, yes…" Christine realized that it did not feel like a total lie when she spoke those words, and that terrified her to the point where her hands shook.

It could not be love, could it? Would love really drive someone to do such horrid things? Erik had never outright told Christine he loved her, but the way he looked at her, touched her, and sang to her suggested that he might. And he had made her feel things that she did not quite understand, like when a certain look in his eyes would make her blood race, or when his touch made her skin burn. But that did not mean that she was in love with him…did it?

Christine did not know the answer to that, which scared her all the more.

"Is everything alright, Miss Daaé?"

Christine had not realized that she had let her mind wander so far. "Forgive me," she said, embarrassed. "I have a lot on my mind, that is all… Are you married, Adele?"

Adele smiled, nodding, and Christine ate the rest of her breakfast while the woman spoke. "Oui. Lucien and I have been married a very long time. We met when I was very young, and got married when…well, when I was your age, actually. Just eighteen years old." Adele sighed happily. "I never had a doubt that he was the one for me. Of course, all marriages have their challenges, but I would not trade a second."

Christine smiled at the obvious joy Adele exuded when speaking about her husband. She was just about to ask another question when Adele got up.

"I must get back to work. The master has asked for you to join him in the music room when you are ready. Are you finished, dear?" Adele gestured to her tray.

"Yes, thank you," Christine replied, taking one last sip of tea. She was quite nervous to see Erik for the first time since the events of the previous night, getting up from her chair slowly and starting towards the dark hallway.

She had not a clue where exactly the music room was, but right on cue, she began to hear the distant sounds of a piano playing. She followed the sound until she was at the final door at the very end of the long hallway. The music was definitely coming from this room. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves, but her hands continued to tremble as she knocked on the door.

The music ceased, and she heard that all too familiar voice say, "Come in." She took another deep breath and hesitantly opened the door.

Erik was at the piano, writing on some papers in front of him. Christine entered and shut the door behind her, studying the huge room. There was a fire burning strong in the fireplace, making the room comfortably warm, much different from the constant coldness of the Phantom's lair. She walked alongside the bookshelves, pretending to glance at the titles but really watching Erik from the corner of her eyes.

He paused in his writing, turning to look at her, and nearly gasped. Would he ever get used to her beauty? He swallowed, standing from the bench. She noticed his movement and glanced up, only to blush and look away when their eyes met. The color in her cheeks made his heart twist, and he went to her, stopping when he was still a couple of feet away.

"I trust everything has been to your liking," he said, his voice low.

"Yes, thank you," Christine said in a voice barely above a whisper, for fear of her voice trembling. Erik was wearing his usual black attire and white mask. Christine hated to admit it to herself, but he was quite handsome. His ocean blue eyes, immaculate clothing, and lean muscular build would make any woman swoon if she did not know what lied behind his mask.

Christine knew though, and yet she was starting to feel light headed just being near him.

"I have sent for wedding papers," Erik started, his voice like honey. "We should receive them soon. We may even be married within the week."

Her heart stopped.

What would happen then? Would he expect them to…consummate the marriage? Surely not… He would not make her do anything if she was not willing, would he?

Erik saw her expression, knowing what she must be thinking. How could she think that he would even consider forcing himself on her? "Do not worry," he sighed, pained that he even had to reassure her. "I do not expect anything from it. I only…I would simply be honored to get to call you my wife, Christine. That is all."

She could tell he was genuine when he spoke, which calmed her, and she released a breath, nodding.

Erik spoke again, "If you need or want anything, anything at all, tell me and I will give it to you. I would give you anything in this world, Christine. I want you to be happy here…happy with _me_."

Christine looked at him, the want to please her evident in his passionate words. It broke her heart. She gave him a small, sad smile and told him, "I am not quite sure if that is possible, Erik."

Her words cut him deep.

Trying a different tactic, Erik grabbed her hand and held it tightly in both of his, gazing into her eyes and saying, "I can…I _will_ make you happy."

His voice was intense and powerful, his eyes burning into hers, making her tremble. His gloveless hands were warm and callused around hers.

"If you allow me…no, if you just allow yourself to _feel_ , you will find that we are meant to be together. Allow yourself to feel, Christine. Do not try and fight it anymore."

Christine's heart raced, not knowing what to say. He was obviously waiting for a response, searching her eyes. "Time," she finally choked out. "I need time."

He nodded, pleased that she was not denying him, at least. "I will wait as long as it takes, Angel." He placed a kiss on her hand, and then dropped it and turned back to the piano. Their conversation inspired him, and he quickly wrote down the notes before he could forget.

Christine looked down at her hand. It looked the same as it always had, but it tingled where his lips had touched it…

She was so confused. She wanted to hate this man, hate him for everything he had done. And then there was the guilt; for if Raoul knew about the feelings she were experiencing with this other man who had almost killed him, he would feel betrayed. She did not want to have feelings for Erik. She wanted to feel strong and in control, but everything he did made her feel weak. _God, Christine. Always a little girl. He is nothing but a man!_

Clenching her teeth, she huffed out a frustrated breath, thankful that Erik's back was turned. He must be working on something important. Curious, she walked to where he was sitting and peeked over his shoulder. But before she could get a good look at whatever he was working on, Erik gathered the papers and placed them face down atop the piano. She figured that he would not have done that unless he wanted to keep it hidden.

Instead of asking about it, she asked something else that had been on her mind. "Erik, how do you and Madame Giry know each other?"

Erik sighed. He knew this was coming at some point, but was hoping she would not ask so soon. "It is a long story. It is unimportant." His tone was curt.

She could sense that he did not want to talk about it, but she wanted answers—deserved answers, actually—and she was going to get them.

"I think I have a right to know," she said, imitating his serious tone. "She raised me after my father died, and you and I are…engaged. I would like to know how you two met."

Erik scoffed, "You say that, but you really do not want to know."

His voice had that mocking edge that Christine hated. "You said that I could have anything I wanted," Christine challenged him. "I want to know."

Erik was suddenly standing and in her face. He looked angry, but Christine held her head up and refused to look away. She was going to win this face off if it was the last thing she did.

"Fine," Erik finally seethed, seeing that she was not going to let it go. He stomped across the room to the fireplace, gesturing to the chaise. "Sit."

Christine studied him warily as she walked to the chaise and obeyed. He sure seemed angry about her making him tell her how he knew Madame Giry. Did he also seem…nervous?

 _No, silly._ The Phantom was never nervous. She watched as he paced, waiting patiently for him to speak.

"I met her when I was a boy. If I had to guess, I would say that I was maybe ten years old, as I do not know my own birthday." His voice was careful, controlled, and she could tell he was trying extremely hard to keep a calm façade. "I…I was a prisoner of a traveling fair, and I had been kept by them for a couple of years, maybe more. I was nothing more to them than a moneymaker. They kept me locked in a cage."

His voice betrayed him, now mocking and cold. "I am sure you can guess what my act was, Christine." He looked at her. Her lips were parted in shock, and tears were already pooling in her eyes. Yes, she could guess what his act was.

He looked away and continued, "My act was simple. One of the men would enter my cage, beat me, and show my face to the audience. Some would laugh, some would scream, some would throw things at me…and then the man would beat me some more, for the fun of it."

The tears began to fall down her cheeks. Still, he continued, "I went through the same sequence countless times, in countless cities, until we traveled to Paris. I…I could not take it anymore, Christine." He paused. "There was a girl in the audience that night who did not laugh or scream, but simply watched. I will never forget how…how she flinched when they beat me, or how she looked pained by my pain, so compassionate."

"Madame Giry…" Christine whispered, finally understanding.

Erik nodded. "After my act, the audience left, save for her. I did not know that she had lingered, you see, and I needed to act fast in order to escape. There was a rope tied to my cage that I got a hold of…" He paused, not sure if he should go on. He glanced at Christine, seeing her tearful and shocked, but she nodded, willing him to continue. He turned away, bracing his hands against the wall.

"I killed him," he said, his voice low. "I wrapped the rope around that man's throat and I took his life. I was no more than _ten._ " He paused again, hating how he could hear Christine crying over him. As if he deserved an Angel's tears. "Madame Giry saw the whole thing, and yet, she saved my life. They would have killed me when they saw what I had done. She took my hand and we ran to the Opera House. I had lived there ever since."

Christine's eyes were wide, her mouth slightly agape. No child should ever go through something like that. Her heart broke for the man in front of her, for the child he used to be. _Poor Erik…_ How could the world be so cruel?

She understood, now. She understood why he was so damaged, what made him the way that he is. His childhood got stolen from him, and all because of his face, something out of his control.

His words from the previous night came to her mind: _This face, which earned a mother's fear and loathing… The world showed no compassion to me._ She understood.

Erik had not moved from his spot against the wall, and Christine could see that his breathing was heavy. The recount of his childhood must have taken a lot to tell, and she felt an overwhelming urge to comfort him, unable to chase the image of a young boy being beaten and laughed at. After a long moment of consideration, she swallowed her pride and got up from the chaise. She went to him, softly grabbing his shoulder, pulling him away from the wall.

Christine had her arms wrapped around his waist and her head against his chest before he could comprehend what was happening. Erik stood there for a moment, confused, until he realized that his Christine, his Angel, was embracing him.

He crushed her to him, his heart pounding, which she could feel against her cheek. She cried harder now, and he shushed her, pulling her in even tighter and stroking her hair.

Christine realized in that moment that _he_ was the one comforting _her_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you for reading, and please review. :)**

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Chapter 8

They stood there in each other's arms for an immeasurable amount of time. Christine ceased crying after a while, but Erik continued to stroke her hair and hold her close. He could scarcely believe that this was actually happening, that Christine had willingly placed herself in his arms. He enjoyed the moment, enjoyed the feel of her body against his as he inhaled scent of her hair, hoping that it would last for a while.

Christine relished the feel of him against her, the now familiar scent of him, surprised at how safe she felt, how comforted. She remembered how afraid she had been of him in the past (the day before, even), and thought that silly now. Even though they had never held each other quite like this before, it felt…right.

She listened to his heartbeat as it slowed. Could one heartbeat seem stronger than others? She was sure that his was the strongest she had ever felt. Yes, his heart was strong, despite what he had been through. Despite his pain, helplessness, fear, anger, all at such a young age…

Her breathing shuddered and she was beginning to cry again.

Erik sighed and pulled away just enough to take her face in his hands. She looked up at him, her eyes red rimmed and wet. His thumbs gently brushed against her cheeks, wiping the tears there. "Silly to cry for a monster, Christine," he said sadly.

"They were the monsters," she replied, her voice quivering. "So cruel. No one should have to go through something like that. Especially not a child."

Erik pulled her into him again, holding her head to his chest softly. "I would go through it again and again," he said, his voice like velvet, "If it meant I could end up here with you, just like this."

Shocked, Christine pulled away and looked up at his face. His expression made her feel all warm in the lower half of her body, and her heart began to pound.

She suddenly had the strangest urge to…to kiss him. If a simple look from Erik had such an effect on her, she could only imagine what a kiss with him would be like. She wanted to, but she was frozen in place, scared to death of her feelings.

Erik watched her face slowly become nervous and unsure again, and he sighed, guessing the moment was over. He stroked her face once more before detangling himself from her arms, going back to the piano and writing down more notes.

Relieved to be free of Erik's intense stare, Christine's thoughts cleared. She mentally scolded herself for nearly dropping all of her defenses. _You have got to be stronger than that, Christine_. She took a deep breath and slowly approached him again. "I…I would like to explore the garden," she said. "Would that be alright?"

He turned to her, confused, and said, "Of course, my dear." Why would she ask permission?

"Would…" Christine began, her nerves apparent. "Would you accompany me?" She needed to get used to being around him, thinking it would surely get easier. It would not do to turn to mush every single time he looked at her.

He stared at her, mouth slightly agape, obviously not understanding her request. "You…wish for me to come with you?" She nodded, and smiled, and the sight of it made Erik's heart swell. He very nearly smiled back, but she would surely not appreciate a grinning monster. After a moment he cleared his throat and said, "Yes. All right."

Erik led the way out of the music room, through the dark hallway and sitting room, and out the back doors. Christine wondered where Adele was, then realized that it was already afternoon and she likely finished her work and went home.

The outside air was crisp and cold. She welcomed the fresh air, letting it wash through her clouded mind.

Erik watched as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, embracing the breeze. God, she was so lovely. He already wished to hold her again. As they approached the garden, Christine walked closer to his side, and after a moment of thought he hesitantly offered his arm. She smiled shyly and looped hers through his.

It was strange, walking with him like any normal couple would. It was…nice, she realized, surprised. She stole a quick glance up at him, finding him looking content, happy even. The sight filled her with warmth. She _wanted_ him to be happy, especially now that she knew how difficult his life had been.

Soon, they were walking on the cobblestone ground of the garden. Christine was disappointed to find that there were not any flowers in sight.

"Spring will be here at any moment, my dear. The flowers will bloom soon."

She nodded. "I am sure they will be lovely," she said dreamily.

Erik paused in his steps, and she looked up at him in question. Hearing her looking forward to something here, with him, was more than he could have imagined. Things were going much better than he had expected, much better than he deserved, and it was only their first day together.

"Erik? What is wrong?"

"Nothing. It is nothing."

After walking around the garden a couple of times, Christine began to shiver. The afternoon was quite cold, and Erik noticed and escorted her back into the house.

He set a fire in the sitting room and Christine sat on the sofa, watching him. Though she had been freezing, Erik had removed his coat. His white shirt and dark waistcoat clung to his muscular torso, and Christine was already feeling warmer just watching him work. She bit her lip and looked away, internally chiding herself once again.

The fire burning strong, Erik turned to Christine. "I am going to prepare dinner," he said. "Feel free to explore the house." With that, he started towards the kitchen.

Of course, Christine was able to think more clearly as soon as he disappeared from sight. Confused and angry with herself, she huffed and laid her head back. It had not even been a full _day_ that she had been here with him, and she was already thinking of kissing him, already starting to forget everything else. Why would she have those thoughts, given all that he had done to her?

Christine sighed, thinking of Raoul. They had been together for months and she never… _lusted_ after him like she did Erik. Raoul had never excited her like this. When they had kissed, it was nice, her stomach would often flutter…but one look into Erik's eyes and she was mush.

She had found Raoul quite handsome, but in a boyish way. Erik was a grown man, at least ten years older than Christine, maybe more. Her cheeks heated, and she sighed, rubbing her eyes in frustration. She felt so guilty; like she was betraying Raoul for feeling like this.

What else could she do, though? She was going to spend the rest of her life with this man. She should be allowed to explore her feelings, right? Wouldn't Raoul want even the least bit of happiness for her, no matter what that entailed? Christine hoped that he did, but there was no way of knowing. She wished that she could just speak with him one more time, but she knew that that was impossible. Erik would never allow it. Her eyes began to tear, all the confusion, guilt, and longing hitting her at once. It was too much to bear.

In hopes of distracting herself, Christine got up and began to wander around. She ran her hand along the fine furniture of the sitting room, noting how everything in this home was quite nice. Erik had a very fashionable taste, and an amazing attention to detail. The dark walls and dim lighting were much the same in the sitting room as Erik's music room. She remembered the bookshelves, deciding to go look for something to read.

She walked down the dark hallway and stepped into the music room, leaving the door slightly ajar. Though empty save for her, Erik's presence seemed to linger in this room, his new domain. She looked closely at the book titles, finally finding a familiar one. She picked up _Jane Eyre_ by Charlotte Brontë, recalling her best friend, Meg, being obsessed with the book and pushing her to read it. She could never find the time, and she refused to stay awake each night like Meg did to read. She tucked it under her arm and kept looking.

Christine froze when she saw _Don Juan Triumphant_. Of course would have brought it back from the Opera House; she should have known. She picked it up and flipped through the wrinkled pages, remembering. Reading through the lyrics again, a shiver ran down her spine. Had he really written these with her in mind? He had always been such a gentleman when they were together, but the opera suggested that his thoughts were not so…gentlemanly.

She bit her lip, recalling the night before, singing with him. The passion and sensuality they each exuded in those moments were extraordinary. She closed her eyes and began to hum the tune, swaying slightly as her body could not stay still. She wanted to sing with him again, to experience the same feelings as they had the night before…before everything had gone crazy.

Christine was so caught up that she did not realize Erik had entered the room. He watched her from the door, watched her swaying and humming his music, humming the very music that explained his desire for her. The sight was titillating, and he had never wanted her more than he did in this moment. He wanted his lips against hers, wanted one hand to tangle in her perfect curls, and the other to explore her curves…

Instead of acting on those impulses, Erik cleared his throat.

Christine gasped and whirled, a bright red flush rising to her cheeks. She thought for sure she was alone, and was deeply embarrassed to see that she was not. Erik slowly walked over to her, his eyes undeniably hungry, making her stomach flip uncomfortably. When he was right in front of her, she handed him the opera quickly, looking down in shame.

"Forgive me," she breathed, her voice barely audible. Erik took the opera and placed in back on the shelf.

"Nothing to forgive, Angel," his voice was low and husky, and it made Christine's blood boil.

Her breathing sped, and Erik took it as a sign of fear. He sighed. "Come," he said. "Dinner is ready."

Erik noticed the book tucked under her arm as they walked to the dining area. "Find something of interest?"

Christine smiled. "Yes, actually," she said. " _Jane Eyre_. Meg tried for the longest time to get me to read it. It is her favorite book. Have you read it, Erik?"

He nodded, "I have read countless books, my dear. What else is there to do when you live underground for most of your life?" Erik's attempt at humor failed, seeing how she looked away sadly. He clenched his jaw, pulling out a chair for her.

"Thank you," she said as she sat, dinner and a glass of wine on the table before her. Erik sat opposite her and they ate together in silence. He had never shared a meal in such a normal setting like this before, and he surprisingly enjoyed it. It made him feel like an average man, simply having a meal with his fiancé.

It made him happy.

Christine was intrigued, having never seen Erik eat. It helped her realize that he was just a man, not something more like she used to believe. Yes, he was just a man, but with the voice of an Angel and the power to make her feel like she had never felt…

When they finished, Erik cleared the table save for their wine glasses, which he refilled. Christine took hers and went to sit by the fire. She sipped the sweet liquid, enjoying how it made her feel warm and relaxed. Erik returned and Christine flashed him a smile.

"Thank you for dinner," she said earnestly. "This wine is lovely."

Erik smiled warmly, one of the most rare sights Christine had ever seen. He looked all the more handsome when he smiled, and it made her heart squeeze. "I am happy you enjoyed it, Christine."

"Will you sit with me?" she asked, the wine making her confident, and Erik's eyes lit up. At once, he was sitting at her side on the sofa. They each sipped their wine, merely enjoying each other's company.

"Erik," Christine began, his name on her lips sending a thrill through him. "Did you build this house?"

He shook his head. "Simply designed it. That is all. I hired people to build it. Well, not me exactly. Madame Giry helped. She did not want me living underneath the Opera House forever, you see. The house was her idea in the first place. I had acquired quite a fortune just from being the 'Opera Ghost', as you know, and she suggested I invest in a home. At first I thought it silly. Me? A home? But then…things changed…" his voice got lower towards the end.

Christine swallowed, knowing he was referring their relationship. He had hoped all along that they would end up together; she knew that. She glanced out the window, seeing that it was already night. What an emotional day it had been. She let out a long sigh and drained the rest of her wine.

Erik took her empty glass along with his to the kitchen and returned.

Christine was still gazing out the window, lost in her thoughts. The day had not gone like she had anticipated. Her feelings for Erik have only grown immensely through the course of the day and she was worried about what more time with him would do to her, or what it would make her _want_ to do with _him_.

Erik studied her face as she stared into space; saw the worry in her expression. He went to where she was sitting and knelt before her, taking her hands in his. She looked at him, questioning.

"Christine," he began, his voice and eyes pleading, almost sad. "Do you hate me? I understand if you do, given all that I have done to you. I need to know…do you despise me?"

His pleading expression broke her heart, and she reached up and stroked the unmasked side of his face.

Her touch was like heaven to him, and he closed his eyes, savoring it.

Did she hate him? No…as much as she wanted to for everything he had done, she knew she did not hate him, not at all. "Oh, Erik," she whispered. "No. I could not hate you if I tried."

When Erik opened his eyes, they were hungry once again. Had she said too much? She bit her lip. From now on, she would only have one glass of wine with dinner. She needed to break away from his intense stare.

"I am…quite tired," she said quietly. "Will you escort me to my room?"

Erik nodded, slightly disappointed. He had been enjoying her company immensely, maybe even too much. He took her hand and led her up the stairs, and then they were in her bedroom.

He built her a fire and she stood there, watching him. When he was finished, he took her hand and placed a light kiss on her knuckles. He was just turning to leave without another word when she stopped him.

"Erik, would you mind terribly?" She turned around and swept her hair off of her back and across her shoulder.

Erik stood there for a moment, frozen in confusion and shock. Was she really asking him to help her undress? He swallowed, and then cleared his throat, reaching out to assist her. He unbuttoned her dress from the top of her back all the way down to her waist, and immediately stepped back and said, "There."

She turned to face him, holding her dress in place. "Thank you, good Monsieur," she said coquettishly. "Goodnight."

"Sleep well, Christine," he choked, and the next second, he was gone. She stood there for a moment, then sighed and began getting ready for bed. She stepped out of her dress and draped it over the dressing screen. She was feeling quite warm, no doubt from the wine…and Erik. She unlaced her corset and set it down behind the dressing screen, stripping down and then slipping on the thinnest nightgown she could find. She sunk onto the plush bed that felt like heaven, and she was fast asleep within minutes.


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter was fun to write, and I hope y'all enjoy reading! Warning for some sexual content. Please review.**

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Chapter 9

Christine dreamt that she was standing outside on the balcony, wearing nothing but her thin, white nightgown. The moon and stars were shining bright against the black sky. A slight breeze blew, and she enjoyed the feel of the cool air against her face, body, and hair.

The bedroom door blew open, banging against the wall, catching her attention. She whirled to find Erik in the doorway, watching her. His white shirt was fully open, exposing his bare torso. He wore no mask or wig.

She went to him, running her hands along his bare chest, his chiseled body warm beneath her touch. He sighed as she touched him, the sound almost a growl. And then, without warning, he grabbed her hair, making her gasp. The next thing she knew, his warm mouth was on hers in a deep kiss. Her hands clutched his back, pulling his body closer. They kissed passionately, urgently, and then Erik was picking her up. He took her to the bed and threw her down, immediately hovering atop her.

Christine pulled his face down until their lips met again, her body trembling, her heart pounding, a strange heat pooling in her core. Erik's hands, his rough, trembling hands, began to slide down from her hair to her neck, from her neck to her breasts. She broke their kiss, crying out a desperate moan as he grabbed at her; never having had a man touch her like this. It was intense, and she squirmed beneath him. He kissed her neck, her breath coming out in loud gasps that were almost embarrassing.

One hand dropped even lower, sliding down her waist, until it was against her most sensitive area, a world she had barely even explored herself. She clutched his hard shoulders. "Wait," she choked.

At once his weight was gone, and she watched in confusion as Erik strode from the room without a backward glace, the door slamming shut behind him.

Christine jolted upright, gasping and sweating, her bleary eyes searching the dark room. Was it all a dream? It had felt so real, her heart racing and her body still shaking. She touched her lips: and of course, they were not swollen from kissing. _Just a dream…_

The fact was almost disappointing. Her body was on fire underneath the thick bedding. She got out of bed and grabbed Erik's cape, securing it around her before stepping outside the French doors to the balcony.

The moon and stars were bright, much like the scene in her dream. The air was much colder than in her dream, though, and it felt wonderful against her heated skin. She tried to calm her breathing. In her whole eighteen years of living, she had never had a dream like that. It was frustrating and confusing, and she felt slightly ashamed. She gazed up at the midnight sky, willing the stars to spell out what was going on within her.

"Christine?" Erik's velvet voice sounded from behind her, and she gasped, turning around and finding him exactly as he was before she went to bed, still fully dressed and wearing his mask. "Are you all right, my dear?" The concern was evident in his voice. "I thought I heard you crying out, and then I heard footsteps…"

She secured the cape around her, making sure she was covered. "I am fine," she said breathlessly, stepping inside and closing the doors. "I had a…strange dream. It woke me, and I was too warm."

"Do you wish to talk about it?" he asked curiously.

She shook her head quickly, a blush rising to her cheeks. "No, I…I would rather not."

Her blush raised his curiosity even more, but he nodded, respecting her wishes. "Very well."

She could not meet his eyes, could barely look at him at all. Her dream had only intensified her desire for him, and that irritated her. She hurried across the room, dropped the cape and crawled back into bed. She felt much safer now, with the bedding covering her.

Erik took that as a sign as her wanting to be left alone. "Goodnight, then," he nodded to her and began to leave.

"Wait," she said, her voice slightly desperate. "I am afraid I won't be able to sleep. Will you sing for me, Erik?"

He could not say no to her plea, and he went over to the bed and sat on the edge, on the opposite side of where she lied. "What would you like me to sing?" Erik asked.

"What you sang that night…after you brought me to your home beneath the Opera House for the first time," Christine said. It had been so long since that night, and that song had been so beautiful. "Do you remember?"

Erik nodded. "How could I forget?" He cleared his throat and began singing softly, his Angel's voice hypnotizing. She gazed at his face as he sang; his unmasked side was facing her luckily, and she studied his handsome features. Soon, his song calmed her tense body, and her eyes grew heavy.

She was sleeping before he got to the final verse.

When Erik was sure she was asleep, he stopped his quiet singing. He watched her for a moment, enchanted by her peaceful face and slightly parted lips. Oh, how he wanted to kiss that perfect mouth. He had thought and dreamt about it countless times, and he wondered if she would ever allow him to actually experience it. Part of him thought, _Someday,_ hopefully, while another part scoffed bitterly, _Doubtful._ He sighed and strode from the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

* * *

The week passed quickly, a routine beginning to take shape for Christine. Adele would be there in the morning when she woke to help her dress for the day, and they would sit together as Christine ate breakfast. Afterwards, Christine would help Adele with her chores, enjoying the woman's presence and the chance to converse. They would talk about anything and everything, simply getting to know each other. Christine learned that Adele never had a child, though she had always longed for one.

"It just was not in God's plan, I suppose," Adele had explained sadly.

Adele would leave in the early afternoon when she was finished with her tasks, and Christine would always be sad to see her go. She was really beginning to like spending time with the kind woman. Christine's afternoons were spent lounging in the sitting room, reading _Jane Eyre_. She soon understood why Meg had been so obsessed with the book. Though the beginning was very sad, it grew hopeful as Jane fell in love with her master, Mr. Rochester. The man was abrasive and secretive, yet Jane loved him all the more. He loved her too, despite her plainness. Christine hoped terribly that they would end up together.

Erik would stay in the music room until the early evening, obviously working on something important. He would cook dinner, and they would dine together. Christine made sure not to have more than one glass of wine. Sometimes they would make small talk, but mostly they communicated nonverbally. He would gaze into her eyes, his own filled with love and happiness at some times, and desire in others. Either way, her heart would begin to pound and she would look away shyly, her cheeks turning pink.

Christine tried to keep her distance from him, worried about what she would do if they got too close. Every night he would walk her to her bedroom, and sometimes she would ask him to stay and sing her to sleep. When she slept, she would dream of him.

The dreams persisted always of the two of them kissing and touching, vivid and demanding. She would wake with her heart racing and her breath coming out in gasps, an unfamiliar ache in her private area. The dreams frustrated her in more ways than one, and soon she began to realize that she could not ignore her desires much longer. She even thought she might die if she did not do something about it soon, which then made her think, _My God, do not be so melodramatic, Christine._

It was the sixth day that Christine had been with Erik in this house, and Adele arrived earlier than usual, waking her. "Rise and shine, my dear!" she called cheerfully, opening the drapes.

Christine sat up slowly in confusion. "Adele?" she asked sleepily. "Why are you here so early?" She saw that the sun had barely risen.

The housekeeper set a tray in front of her on the bed. "Eat quickly," she said excitedly. "We must get you ready!" Christine merely stared, not understanding. She watched as Adele went into the closet and pulled out her recently cleaned wedding dress from that crazy night a week ago.

Only then did Christine understand, and she froze. "The wedding papers have arrived," Adele explained. "It is your wedding day, Christine!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much for reading. Please review, and enjoy. :)**

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Chapter 10

Christine sat frozen, her heart pounding, her mouth agape, and Adele eventually noticed.

"Christine?" she asked in concern. "What is the matter? Are you not excited?"

She finally regained her composure, but her expression was one of worry. "Oh…well, of course I am, Adele. It is just that…" she hesitated. She needed to speak to _someone_ , and she sure was not going to speak to Erik about it. "May I talk to you about something?"

"Of course," Adele said, sitting at the edge of her bed. "You can speak to me about anything."

Christine took a deep breath and began nervously. "The thing is…I was engaged to a different man before Erik-I mean Monsieur…Destler." Adele's eyes widened, but Christine continued, "And…I loved him, I truly did. Though the way I loved him was much different from the way I…feel about Monsieur Destler. He had made me feel safe, comfortable, and I was happy with him. But with Erik—and excuse me for speaking so boldly—it is as if I am on fire when touches me, or even looks at me! I am afraid of the intensity of our feelings for one another. It has proven him…to have quite a temper, in the past." She paused, and groaned in frustration. "I am just so confused, Adele. I feel so _guilty_ for allowing myself to try and be happy with Erik, because I know that the other man would feel betrayed if he knew that I was." Her voice broke toward the end of her speech, and her eyes grew wet.

Adele hated to see the girl so torn. She rubbed her hand on Christine's back softly and assured her, "You should _never_ feel guilty for the way that you feel, dear. We cannot control our feelings. You are positive about marrying Monsieur Destler, yes?"

Christine nodded, and Adele smiled softly and said, "Then that is all there is to it. You must not dwell on that other man, on his feelings. You must move forward, Christine. Allow yourself to be happy. Worry about _your own_ feelings. Those are the most important. And as for the intensity of your feelings for one another, well…that is love. True love is the scariest thing in the world, but also the most wonderful thing."

Christine took it all in, thinking seriously for a moment. Finally, she smiled, wiping her teary eyes. "I suppose you are right," Christine said. "It is my wedding day. I should be happy." And she was happy, in a way. She could not deny her connection to Erik any longer. They would be married and nothing would stop her from following her heart, her desires.

That thought made her stomach twist.

"Thank you, Adele," Christine said earnestly. "You are wonderful!"

She embraced the woman, who laughed and said, "I wish you nothing but happiness, my dear. Now eat up! I am going to run you a bath."

Christine needed one last thing from her. "Adele," she said quietly, almost whispering, "If I…wrote a letter, would you…deliver it for me? I just need to explain…"

Adele deliberated, not thinking it was a great idea, but she wanted to see Christine happy. She nodded once, "Very well."

Christine smiled. "Oh, thank you so much. I will write it later. I should focus on getting married today…"

With that, Adele smiled once again and left to prepare Christine's bath.

Christine ate her breakfast and wondered what would happen after she married Erik. He had made it clear that he was not expecting them to…do anything…but what if she wanted to? Her nerves were building more and more every second.

The rest of the morning was spent making sure Christine was absolute perfection for the wedding. She bathed and washed her hair, and Adele helped her into her wedding dress. They applied rouge to Christine's cheeks, beeswax to her lips, plucked her eyebrows, darkened her lashes, and added a light, gold colored eye paint to make her brown eyes shine. They played with her hair, but ultimately decided to leave it down; that was what framed her face the best.

Adele sighed and stroked Christine's curls, looking into the large mirror before them. "You look absolutely lovely, Christine," Adele said quietly. "He is going to be enchanted."

Christine smiled, looking down bashfully. "I am…nervous, Adele," she whispered.

Adele took her hand. "Do not be," she said softly. "You two are meant to be together. It will be magical."

Christine looked in the mirror once more, thrilled with how she looked. She took a deep breath and turned to Adele. "Thank you, again," she said, smiling. "I will see you soon?"

The woman nodded, squeezing her hand. "Yes. Good luck, Christine." They smiled at each other once more and Christine turned to leave the room.

She descended the stairs carefully, taking deep breaths and trying to calm her nerves. Before she knew it, she was standing right outside the music room door. When she entered, Erik was standing near the piano. He wore black trousers and coat, a white dress shirt with black cravat, and a deep burgundy waistcoat. He was also wearing his usual white mask. Christine could not deny that he looked quite handsome, and her heart began to pound.

His face lit up when he saw her, unable to believe that this girl who looked more like and angel than a human was going to be his bride. He watched as she walked toward him, looking more lovely and innocent than ever with her shy smile and dark eyes. She reached him and he took her hand, giving it a kiss. "My God, Christine," he said, his voice low and smooth as silk. "You look…exquisite."

She could hear the joy in his voice, could see it in his expression. It made her heart swell. "Thank you. You look quite handsome, Erik."

He almost believed her. He reached over to the small end table and produced Christine with a single red rose with all of the thorns carefully removed, a black ribbon tied to the center.

She took it, smiling. "I have not received one of these in a while," she teased him, her playful tone making him smirk.

"I have something else for you." Erik took her face in his hands, gently, blue eyes on fire. And then, he said intensely, "Christine Daaé, I love you. I had no reason to live until I found you. I need you to know just how much you mean to me."

She trembled, her breath hitching at his confession. It was the first time he had outright told her he loved her, and she wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her to make the moment even sweeter.

He did not. Instead, he released her face and sat at the piano.

He began playing a beautiful melody, but it was nothing compared to the beauty of his voice, of his words that followed:

 _"No one would listen  
No one but her  
Heard as the outcast hears._

 _Shamed into solitude  
Shunned by the multitude  
I learned to listen  
In my dark, my heart heard music._

 _I longed to teach the world  
Rise up and reach the world  
No one would listen  
I alone could hear the music_

 _Then at last, a voice in the gloom  
Seemed to cry 'I hear you;  
I hear your fears,  
Your torment and your tears.'_

 _She saw my loneliness  
Shared in my emptiness  
No one would listen  
No one but her  
Heard as the outcast hears_

 _No one would listen  
No one but her  
Heard as the outcast hears..."_

The song ended, and Christine did not realize that her tears had spilled over. His song had left a huge imprint in her heart, and she was overwhelmed with emotion. Christine knew in that moment that she loved him. _I love you too, Erik,_ she wanted to say, but could not make herself speak the words.

Erik stood, saw the emotion on her face, and brushed away her tears with his thumbs. "You have brought me more joy than I ever thought I would be allowed to feel," he murmured thickly. "I cannot thank you enough for that, Christine."

She reached up, caressing the unmasked side of his face, whispering, "Oh, Erik. That was so beautiful." He leaned in to her touch, sighing. Would she ever get used to that reaction? He turned his head and pressed his lips to her palm.

After a moment, he took her hand, leading her to the table. On it was two wedding bands, a piece of paper, and an ink pen. Erik picked up the smaller of the two wedding bands, and his hand shook as he slid it into place next to her engagement ring. The thin, simple band blended well with her diamond ring.

Christine then took the other band and Erik's left hand, placing the ring upon his appropriate finger.

And then, Erik crushed her into his arms. She could feel his heart pounding and could hear the shakiness of his breath, his desperation nearly breaking her. She swallowed down the tears that threatened and softly ran her hands along his back, trying to sooth him without words.

Erik took a breath and released her, and when she looked up at him she saw how his eyes were wet. She smiled at him, her voice ringing strong as she said, "You are not alone, Erik. I am here."

She picked up the pen, signed her new name, _Christine Destler,_ on the paper. That strange calmness that she had felt the night she had made her choice was back, and she had no fear as she took his face in her hands and pressed her lips against his.

* * *

 **If you didn't know, the 2004 movie has a deleted scene where the Phantom sings alone in his lair about Christine, and I was so disappointed that they decided not to keep it. So, I just knew that I had to include it in this story somehow, and that is the song Erik sang to Christine in this chapter. It's called No One Would Listen if you want to look it up. Gerry's voice is very beautiful in it. :) Please let me know what you think.**


	11. Chapter 11

**I cannot thank those who have reviewed enough! I giggle like a little schoolgirl every time I get one (not even lying). I seriously LOVE reading y'all's thoughts, so don't hesitate to leave any. :)**

 **Please enjoy this chapter (not sure how I feel about it, so let me know what you think), and thank you for reading!**

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Chapter 11

At first, Erik did not, _could not_ , respond to her kiss. He merely stood there, his arms hanging at his sides, his body frozen.

Though overwhelmed with the electricity that ran through her veins as she kissed Erik, Christine noticed his lack of response after a moment. She worried that she might have offended him, or that he was not feeling the same way she was. She pulled away, searching and finding his eyes wide, and filled with so much awe and sadness; as if he just could not believe that she had kissed him, or that he was even worthy of her kiss. She wanted to chase those doubts away, so she gave him a small smile and nod of encouragement, and pulled him in once again.

This time, he almost immediately wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer as he began kissing her back. She lost herself in his inexperienced kiss, unlike anything she could have ever imagined. Unable to help herself, she kissed him with more enthusiasm, locking her arms around his neck and parting her lips.

His first kiss…she had _really,_ truly kissed him. God, how could a kiss be both agonizing and exquisite all at once? A low moan escaped from Erik's throat as he took advantage of the parting of her lips, clumsily exploring her mouth with his tongue.

His tongue touching hers sent a thrill through Christine. Though graceless, his kiss still somehow managed to be searing, and she ached in her lower body. Before she could get too carried away, she put her hands back on his face and pulled away to look into his eyes.

Erik breath was ragged, his eyes wet, and a single tear was visible running down his perfect cheek. Christine brushed it away with her thumb, and he sighed.

"You…" he began, his voice thick and low. "Christine, I do not expect you to…I mean…you did not have to…do that."

Christine had never seen him struggle for words in such a way before, and she thought it…quite charming, actually. She smiled and whispered, "I wanted to, Erik." She kissed him softly once more.

He shook his head slowly in disbelief, but the look on his face was one of joy. Bending toward the table, he quickly signed his name on the marriage certificate, and Christine's heart swelled at his eagerness. Straightening, he took her face in his hands and whispered, "My wife. I cannot believe I get to call you that." His eyes looked especially blue, and they were scorching into hers. Her heart began to pound once again, her nervousness returning. But then, he took her hand.

"Come," he said. "We must celebrate. I will get the champagne. Wait for me in the sitting room." Christine could not help but smile widely at his eager attitude. Seeing him so happy made her want to sing.

Erik retrieved the bottle of Dom Pérignon and two glasses, and met Christine in the sitting room.

He poured each of them a glass and they sat together, closer than she was used to, but she did not mind. They sipped their drinks and Christine was taken aback by the sweet taste. "Oh my," she said. "This is very good. I have never had champagne before." She took a greedy gulp, and Erik actually _laughed_. The sound of his laugh was like a unique song, the richness of it making her gape.

"Do not have too much, my dear," he warned, his voice full of warmth, still chuckling slightly. "Unless you do not want your wits about you. Champagne is much stronger than wine."

She was shocked to learn that, considering it was not the least bit bitter like wine could be. Shrugging, she took another drink, which made Erik shake his head and laugh again. She could not help but stare as he laughed. It was as if he was a completely different man.

Erik noticed her scrutiny and stopped, clearing his throat in discomfort. "What is it?"

Christine shook her head, looking down shyly. "Oh, nothing."

He lifted her chin with a finger, ever gently. "Tell me," he demanded quietly, voice and eyes nearly hypnotizing her.

"Y-you are…" she struggled for words, her voice shaking. "You seem so different. You seem…happy. I have never heard you laugh before, and well, it makes me…happy to-to see you like this."

His heart swelled at her stuttered words. Erik always knew that they had the potential to be much more than happy together, but to actually hear her say that she was happy on their wedding day was much more than he had imagined. Still holding her chin, Erik said intensely, "Don't you see? It is because of you, Christine. You are my muse, my inspiration! You are here with me, and you just married me! How could I not be the happiest man in the world?" He kissed her forehead and whispered, "I love you, my angel."

She trembled, a lump forming in her throat. He was so genuine, and there was no doubt that he meant what he said. _He really does love me_. And she loved him, too. Would she be able to tell him that? Would he believe her?

At her lack of response, Erik dropped her chin and took another drink, looking out the window. The sun would begin to set in less than two hours. "How about an early dinner?" he suggested. "We can watch the sunset afterwards…"

Christine smiled and patted one of his hands. "That sounds lovely."

While Erik was readying their supper, Christine waited on the sofa, pretending to read _Jane Eyre_. It was difficult to focus, however, as she had just gotten married and realized her love for Erik.

How on Earth would she gain the courage to tell him?

She watched him from the corner of her eye as he strode back and forth from the kitchen, placing their dinner on the table. Their meal consisted of fluffy bread, soup, vegetables, roasted duck, and cake.

Christine's eyes were wide when she sat at the table. "You could not have just made all of this…did you?"

Erik shook his head, his lips twitching upward. "You caught me. No, I had the housekeeper pick most of it up from a restaurant. She brought it all this morning. I was just reheating it." He sat across from her and they ate together, commenting on the food and what tasted the best. They would smile frequently, the champagne adding to their good moods, and once they were finished, they sat next to each other on the sofa again.

The sun had just begun to set, and they faced the window, watching it together. Christine shyly took his hand and he looked at her, the warmth in his eyes making her head swim. She waited for him to look away, but he did not. She teased him, "Are you not going to watch the sunset?"

He shrugged, still not looking away from her. "I could," he began, his voice velvety smooth. "Or I could look at something infinitely more beautiful." Flushing, Christine looked away like she usually did when she was abashed.

They sat in silence for a while, admiring the gorgeous colors of the sun setting behind the clouds. Christine laid her head against his shoulder, and he placed a kiss against her hair in response. How effortless things felt between them, she realized. Maybe Erik was right when he said they belonged together…

As the sky got darker, Christine's eyes grew heavy, the drink having made her drowsy. She decided to rest them for a minute, listening to the sound of Erik's breathing, concentrating on the warmth of his body next to her…

When she opened her eyes again, the sky was black, the fireplace barely illuminating the dim room. _Must have dozed off,_ she thought, feeling a little foggy. Her head was still rested on Erik's shoulder, and she looked up at him, finding him with his eyes closed, and his breathing even. All of the hard planes of his face were smoothed out in sleep. Christine could not help but smile at the sight. "Erik?" she whispered, testing.

He did not budge, and she studied his masked face in sleep. She had the sudden urge to take off his mask, wanting to see what his misshapen face looked like while he slept. Wanting to see the real _him_ as he was peaceful and content. She reached up and ran her hand along his cheek, tracing her finger across his lips, making sure that her touch would not wake him. He sighed, but did not wake, and she slowly reached for his mask…

She had just barely touched the cool surface of it when Erik's eyes flew open, and his hand snapped up and grabbed her wrist. Christine gasped, startled, and she saw that his eyes were careful, with only a hint of anger shining through.

"What are you doing?" He asked flatly, and her heart pounded.

"I…" she breathed. "I…wanted to see your face, Erik." His grip on her wrist tightened, not quite painful but not pleasant either.

"You have seen my face, Christine," was all he replied, his voice icy.

She swallowed, wanting to be brave but feeling like a mouse when he spoke to her so coldly. "I thought you were sleeping. You looked so peaceful," she tried to explain, but stopped.

He took a breath and released her wrist, not saying anything, and not meeting her eyes. She felt awful. They had spent a wonderful evening together, and in an instant, she had ruined it. Now, he was angry with her, and she felt tears well in her eyes. On an impulse, she stood and strode from the room, dashing up the stairs.

Erik watched her flee, confused. "Christine?" he called.

She did not respond, did not stop until she was in her moonlit bedroom with the door closed. She sat on the bed facing the far wall, trying to stop her tears from flowing. She felt so stupid. Why would she try and remove his mask without his permission? He obviously would not have liked that. Both times she had removed his mask in the past were a betrayal to him; of course that would not change now. She huffed in frustration, wiping her wet under eyes. What a way to ruin the first night with her new husband.

Erik entered the room quietly. "Christine?" he asked, his voice much softer than before. She did not turn, did not respond, afraid of what her voice might sound like.

"I…should not have reacted that way," he said, his voice betraying no emotion. "I apologize."

The apology only made her feel worse. Why was he apologizing to her when it had been her mistake? She stood and went to him, avoiding his eyes. With a sudden burst of courage, she wrapped her arms around his waist, noticing that he had removed his coat.

He awkwardly patted her hair. "Oh, Erik," she murmured, sniffling. "You reacted exactly as you should have. I should not have tried that without asking you. Can you ever forgive me?" She looked up at him, her brown eyes pleading as they looked into his.

The warmth was back in his expression. "You are already forgiven, my dear. But why did you run off like that?"

"You were angry with me. I ruined our pleasant evening," she pouted.

Erik shook his head and scoffed. "Christine, nothing could ruin this day for me. And I was not angry with _you._ It is just…" he hesitated, his voice lowering, and he avoided her eyes again. "I wish that…if you did remove my mask, that you could look upon a normal face, a…handsome one. I dream about being someone you love, not fear. Sometimes, when I look at you, I see that you are afraid of me. And I…I wish that were not the case."

 _Oh, Erik._ Her heart painfully squeezed at his words, at his longing expression. He had no idea that she _did_ love him, already. She swallowed the lump in her throat, reaching up to touch his face. Her stomach twisted with nervousness for what she was about to confess.

"I do not fear you, Erik," she said softly. "I am afraid, however, of the way I feel about you. I…every night I have been here, I have dreamt about you. Such demanding dreams, like none I have ever experienced. In them, you do not even wear your disguise."

"Nightmares, I am sure," he said bitterly.

She lifted his face back up. "Not quite," she whispered.

Christine grabbed one of his hands and placed it against her chest so that he could feel her heart pounding. He choked out a breath, his eyes burning as he looked into hers.

"Do you feel that, Erik?" she asked, her voice quivering with want. "This is what a simple look from you can do to me. _This_ is what I am afraid of, not you."

Shocked, Erik did not know what to say. Did his Christine really want him too, the way he wanted her? _No, that is impossible…_ but her eyes told him otherwise.

She could see the hunger in his expression, and it made her shiver, though she was quite warm. She looked at his lips, remembering their kiss from earlier, and wanted to kiss them again. He was her husband now; couldn't she kiss him whenever she wanted?

Erik saw where her eyes were, and that was all it took for him to take her face in his hands and pull her in until their lips met.

They kissed each other softly, at first, but it soon grew so passionate that it was almost painful. One of his hands fisted into her hair while the other wrapped around her waist. She clutched his hard shoulders, wishing the fabric of his clothes did not cover them.

Erik shoved her back until she was against the wall, his mouth never leaving hers. Her heart was racing much faster now, and soon she had to break away from his kiss, gasping for air.

When she broke their kiss, Erik selfishly could not stop. His lips only moved from her mouth to her jaw, from her jaw to her neck, trailing kisses there and breathing in her delicious scent. "Oh, Christine," he breathed. "You are an elixir, my love."

His praise made her lower body ache, and she could not stop the moan from escaping her. The sound brought Erik's mouth back to hers with urgency, and their teeth clashed together. Still, they kissed each other greedily, their desire for one another growing immensely every second.

Erik, entirely lost in her kiss, lost in _her,_ ran a hand down her back, and he grabbed at the soft flesh of her behind without thinking. Christine gasped at the unexpected contact, and he broke away in horror. He looked into her wide eyes, saw the blush on her cheeks, and stepped back, away from her. He realized what he had done, and was deeply ashamed.

"I…" he panted. "Christine, please…forgive me. I…I am a disgusting monster. I am not worthy to even touch a hair on your head." He turned away from her, shaking his head, feeling absolutely disgusted. She must be horrified…

Christine stared at his heaving back, confused, and disappointed that he had stopped kissing her so abruptly. He had not done anything wrong. Quite the opposite…she had enjoyed what they were doing way too much.

"Erik?" she asked breathlessly, "What do you mean?"

His reply was tortured, "I am a beast. I do not know why I touched you like that. I am so sorry, and ashamed..."

Christine went to stand in front of him, trying to meet his gaze. He avoided her eyes, not looking anywhere but the floor. Her voice was soft and comforting, "You did nothing wrong. I am your wife now, after all." She lifted his chin up, forcing him to meet her eyes. She gave him a reassuring smile, "Please, do not be ashamed, or else…I will have to be ashamed for enjoying it so much."

She flushed a deep red at the confession, and Erik could see that she was, miraculously, being honest. God, she was so lovely, so innocent. How could she not be repulsed by him?

Christine could tell that her words did not do much good to soothe him; his eyes still emanating regret and shame. She sighed, seeing that he was not going to kiss her again, not tonight at least.

In the back of her mind, though, she was relieved. She did not know if she was absolutely ready to give herself to him completely. She knew she _wanted_ to, but was it the right time? She had not confessed her love for him yet, either, which she knew she must do before they could…make love.

Erik finally broke the silence. "It is late. You should go to bed now, Christine." His tone made it clear that it was not up for discussion. She sighed, nodding reluctantly.

She asked him to unbutton her dress again, and he obliged with reluctance, making sure to avoid contact with her skin completely. Afterwards, he busied himself with the fireplace, making sure it would burn strong throughout the night for his bride.

Christine changed into her nightgown behind the dressing screen and crawled into bed, securing the blanket on top of her. When Erik finished at the fireplace and turned to leave, still visibly distraught, she stopped him.

"Erik, come here a moment, please." He paused, but then slowly walked to her side of the bed. She reached for his hand, and he took it, hesitantly. "Will you stay?" she pleaded, her voice tiny. "I just…I want you next to me. Will you sleep next to me, Erik?"

He could only blink at her in shock, even when she squeezed his hand in encouragement. She wanted him to stay, in her bed, with her? Would he be able to control himself? Sleeping next to his angel… A small part of him wanted to be left alone to sulk, but there was no way in hell he could refuse her offer, and he knew that.

"Give…me a moment. To-to change."

She could not help but beam, and she nodded eagerly. "Of course."

Erik ran downstairs and changed into his nightclothes with haste, his stomach clenching with nerves. All he could think of was Christine's intoxicating kiss, the fact the she was his wife, and that she may just want him the way he wanted her. But no, he would not seek anything from her tonight, perhaps not ever. If she wanted him, she would have to make it happen. He would not be able to stand being rejected like that by his beautiful bride.

He kept his mask on, of course, though he knew his face would be raw, inflamed and sore by morning. But, of course, it would all be worth it.

When Erik returned to the bedroom, Christine smiled at him invitingly. He was dressed much more comfortably in his nightclothes, but his mask and wig remained. She would have told him that he could take them off if he wanted, but with what happened earlier she figured she should just wait until another time. When he lied down next to her, Christine immediately snuggled close to him lest she lose her courage. He was frozen at first, but eventually wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer still. Sighing happily, she rested her head against his chest, draping an arm over his waist.

They were like two pieces of a puzzle, designed to fit together perfectly. It did not take long before his heartbeat lulled her to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Again, not so sure how I feel about this chapter, but I hope you guys like it. Thanks so much to those who have followed, favorited, or reviewed. Seriously, you guys rock. :)**

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Chapter 12

Christine woke to the bright light of morning streaming in through the windows. The sunshine was rare, and she basked in it happily, feeling especially warm. Closing her eyes again, she stretched her arms and legs, until the previous night rushed through her memory. Gasping, her eyes snapped open and she searched for Erik beside her, only to find that she was alone in her bed. She sighed in disappointment. Of course, he would not risk being there when Adele arrived, ever the recluse.

She had slept so peacefully in his arms, with no dream for once. Touching her lips, she smiled slightly, remembering the kisses they had shared. Christine never imagined how quickly things could change.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and she called, "Come in, Adele," sitting up on her bed. The door did not open. Christine got out of bed, confused, and threw on her dressing robe over her nightgown. She walked to the door saying, "I said come in…did you hear me?"

She flung the door open to find not Adele, but another woman, with timeless grey eyes and auburn hair pulled back into a tight braid: the woman who had raised her after her father's death. "Oh, Madame!" Christine cried, practically jumping into her arms.

Madame Giry laughed softly, returning her embrace. "Christine," she rejoiced affectionately. "I have missed you."

After a long squeeze, Christine pulled away, taking the woman's hands and pulling her into the room. "I have missed you too!" she exclaimed, and then her voice lowered. "Why are you here? Does Erik know?"

Madame Giry shut the bedroom door and pulled Christine to the bed so they could sit. "Yes, he knows. We have been in contact since you both came here, sending notes through Adele," she explained, seeing the questions in Christine's eyes. "I wanted to come much sooner than this, but…he would not allow it until you two were married. He was afraid I would…" Her voice lowered to a whisper. "If you are miserable, darling, tell me now and I will find a way to get you out of here."

Christine's heart swelled with love for the dear woman, always looking out for her. Shaking her head, she smiled reassuringly. "No…I made this choice, and I would not risk putting you in danger. Besides, I…I am not miserable, Madame. I am…content, happy even." She absentmindedly took one of her curls and twirled it around her finger. "I am beginning to realize that…maybe we _do_ belong together, that maybe we always have. And he knew it all along…"

Her cheeks began to redden, and Madame Giry's eyes softened. "Christine," she began, taking her hand, "It warms my heart to hear you say that. He has endured so much cruelty and pain, and I have always wanted to see him happy. When I spoke with him today, it was like I was speaking with a completely different man." Her voice thickened, and Christine's throat got tight. "When he spoke about you, he… _smiled_ , and it was not bitter or mocking, but a smile of pure joy. I think of him as family, and… Oh, he really loves you."

"I think…I love him too," Christine whispered. It was the first time she said it out loud, and it made her dead swim. Madame Giry stared, her lips parting in shock. "I have tried to deny it. I wanted to hate him for everything he put me through, for doing all of those awful things. But…I just could not. He makes me feel things, such wonderful, powerful things that I never knew I could feel. His voice and his touch and the way he looks at me…" she trailed off, looking at Madame Giry, and the woman's eyes were wet. Her brows furrowed in concern. "What is wrong?"

"Not _wrong_ , my dear girl," Madame Giry squeezed her hand. "I am so very happy for you two."

Christine smiled, and they embraced again briefly. When Christine rose to dress, Madame Giry offered to help her, and she thankfully agreed. Christine first went to the bathroom to quickly wash and change into clean undergarments, and then returned and picked out a light pink dress to go with her happy mood.

Madame Giry was lightly trailing her fingers through the girl's wild curls when she brought up the other reason she had come. "There is…one more thing I have to tell you, Christine." Her voice was a low whisper.

For some reason, Christine's stomach clenched nervously, and she nodded slowly, swallowing.

The woman took a deep breath before quietly rushing through her hushed words. "The Vicomte de Chagny has been searching for you, dear. He has come to me several times, asking—well, _demanding—_ for your whereabouts. He knows that I know where you are, but of course, I would never tell him. That is, unless you wanted me to…"

 _Raoul!_ She had completely forgotten to write that letter explaining everything to him, and now he was looking for her. Unable to help herself, she felt a bit frustrated toward him. Why would he do that, considering what happened to him last time he faced Erik? Did he want to get nearly strangled again, after what she had done to save his life?

Christine met Madame Giry's questioning eyes and hesitantly shook her head, feeling guiltier than ever.

The woman nodded once, reached into her coat pocket, and produced a sealed envelope. "He begged me to deliver this to you, even tried to bribe me into it," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I can give it to you, or I can destroy it. It is your choice."

Christine bit her lip, knowing that Erik would be furious if he knew she was in contact with her previous fiancé. But she felt so awful for how Raoul must be feeling. Shouldn't she read what he had to say? Didn't she owe him at least that much?

Sighing, she took the letter, feeling ashamed in doing so.

Madame Giry's expression was not critical, and for that Christine was thankful. "I will leave you alone, so you may read it. Meet me downstairs when you have finished." The woman strode from the room and shut the door behind her.

Taking a few deep breaths, Christine sat and opened the letter. Her hands shook as she read Raoul's elegant script:

 _Dearest Little Lotte,_

 _I cannot begin to explain the pain I have endured in your absence. Every moment, I am haunted with thoughts of you having to live with that monster. I regret to inform you that I have had such murderous thoughts since you left me. We were supposed to spend our lives together, and that wretched Phantom ruined it for us. I would have died for you, Christine, and I will never understand why you would choose that beast of man over a life of freedom. Please, just tell me where you are. I will rescue you and I will have him arrested so that we may live our lives in peace, just like the original plan. Please, I cannot live without you, Christine. I love you more than I can ever express._

 _Yours, forever,_

 _Raoul_

She read the letter twice, tears having blurred her vision and unable to believe that her gentle, kind childhood sweetheart had written it. Raoul must have been in such pain, and knowing that hurt. But…another part of her was angry with him for saying those awful things about Erik, for being so cold. Of course, she could understand why, but she had never known him to be that extreme.

Should she reply…?

There was no way she would tell Raoul where she was, of course. She was Erik's wife now, and was surprisingly happy about that. She could not risk Erik being taken away from her, not now that she knew she was in love with him. But shouldn't she at least explain to Raoul that she was fine where she was, that he should move on?

Sniffling, Christine wiped her tears and shoved the letter under the pillow closest to her on the bed. She did not want to deal with this right now, and she decided to make the decision later.

Checking herself in the mirror, she made sure there was no wetness left on her cheeks before walking downstairs to the sitting room. Christine ate her breakfast and drank tea with Madame Giry, neither of them speaking about the letter.

Instead, Christine asked about Meg. "How is Meg? I miss her so. You will tell her for me, wont you?"

Madame Giry smiled. "Of course. She is well. She has been worried about you, but I will make sure she knows you are safe and happy."

Christine nodded, smiling. Of course Meg would be worrying about her, just like she always had. Her throat tightened in sad longing when she thought about the blonde ballerina, wishing that she could tell her everything, like she always had in the past. They were like sisters, and she prayed she would get to see her again soon.

They spent most of the day together, catching up as they walked through the garden arm-in-arm. Christine was delighted to find that the air was much less cold than it had been the last time she took a walk outside, and the sun was shining brightly. Spring should be upon them soon, and the garden would be absolutely lovely. She found herself missing Erik, wishing that he were walking through the sunlight with her.

Madame Giry left in the early afternoon, embracing Christine and promising to visit again in the near future. As soon as the woman was gone, Christine nearly ran to the music room.

Entering the dim room, she found Erik sitting at the chaise near the fireplace, reading a thick volume. He wore his usual mask and mostly black attire, and he immediately stood when she entered, placing the book on a small end table. He cracked a hesitant smile, and her answering smile was brilliant. He came over to her, kissing her hand.

"My dear," his warm voice filled her senses, making her heart pound quick and hard. "How are you?"

His eyes were already scorching her, and she looked down shyly before replying, "I am well. It was wonderful to see Madame Giry. Thank you for allowing her to come."

"I thought you might like to see her. But now you must do something for me…" She looked up curiously, and his lips twitched as he pulled her across the room to the piano. "Will you sing for me, Christine?"

Christine smiled widely and nodded. Had it been an entire week since she had last sung? His eyes were alight with excitement to hear her sing for him, and he sat at the piano, exuding eagerness.

Erik led her through a warm up, and she could barely keep the smile off her face as they went through it. How good it felt to use her voice! She would not let herself go so long without singing again. Erik was obviously delighted as well, being especially sweet and encouraging to her. Once her voice was sufficiently warmed, Erik requested that they sing a duet from the opera _Hamlet,_ as Hamlet and Ophelia. She blushed, nervous but excited to sing with him again, and quickly agreed. They sang the beautiful duet together, adoration evident in Erik's voice. She almost felt like she would burst with love.

During one of his solos, Christine was lost in his rich, deep baritone-tenor, staring at him in awe with her mouth slightly agape. She almost missed her cue to begin singing again, but she managed to make a graceful recovery. They finished the song, and Erik smiled rather triumphantly. He was so different when they only sang for fun, rather than having a lesson, and she quite liked the change. He got up and took her hands in his, "That was wonderful, my dear. Thank you."

She smiled radiantly. "Thank _you,_ Erik. I enjoy singing with you."

Erik sighed, suddenly overwhelmed by the happiness he was experiencing, and his eyes glassed over with moisture.

Christine saw, reaching out a tender hand to stroke his face. In that moment, she knew that she wanted to confess her love for him. She was about to, but their eyes locked, and the energy between them changed completely. She parted her lips to speak, but no words would come. Those blazing oceanic depths held her there, frozen, making it difficult for her to concentrate on anything but her desire for him.

He whispered her name in question, his warm breath caressing her face, and she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his desperately.

At first, Erik kissed her back rather enthusiastically, pulling her closer and locking his arms around her waist. But then, he remembered the previous night, not wanting to get carried away like he had. So, before he could lose himself in their kiss, he pushed her away gently.

Christine pouted a bit when he did, which made him shake his head and chuckle.

"My god, girl," he breathed heavily, his tone sending a flutter in her belly. He cleared his throat and adjusted his jacket. "Hungry?"

Though slightly disappointed that he was already done kissing her, she agreed. He took her hand, and they exited the room together.


	13. Chapter 13

**Y'all's reviews seriously make my day! fanfic authoress, your reviews make me smile, and I laughed out loud when you said Erik and Christine are giving you diabetes XD. And JustAFunGirl, your caps-locked reviews make me so happy I could sing, and I think it's great that you imagine Erik and Christine as the 25th anniversary cast! Ramin and Sierra are adorable, and great alternatives if you're not into Emmy and Gerry like I am. :)**

 **Anyway, sorry for rambling! Warning for some sexual content in this chapter. Thank you so much for reading, and please review.**

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Chapter 13

Erik and Christine lounged in the sitting room after dinner, rather close to one another, and holding hands. Too warm, Erik removed his jacket and draped on the arm of the sofa, noticing _Jane Eyre_ in the crevice of the furniture. Picking it up, he asked her conversationally, "Have you finished yet?"

She shook her head. "Almost. I just got to the part where Jane learns that Mr. Rochester is now blind and crippled from the fire."

Erik nodded, remembering. "And…what do you think she will do now?"

He studied her face as she confidently said, "She will go to him, of course. They are meant to be together. His appearance would not stop her from loving him."

Smiling softly at him, she squeezed his hand, as though to hint at something. Erik looked away awkwardly, trying to hide his surprise. Was she trying to hint that she…loved _him_ , despite _his_ appearance? Surely not…though his heart willed it to be true.

They sat in silence for a while, until a question popped into Christine's mind. "Erik," she started, her voice quiet and hesitant. "Would you…still love me if I were not beautiful? If I were plain, like Jane Eyre?"

The unexpected question baffled him, but he hid it by answering surely, "Of course, Christine. I would prefer it, actually."

She turned to look at him, confusion evident on her brow. "What do you mean?"

"Christine," his voice was warm and smooth, "Not only are you overwhelmingly beautiful, but you are gentle, kind, selfless, everything that I am not. I have no right to love you, not at all. Even if you were plain, I would still be unworthy of you." He began to stroke her hair, his eyes so sad yet so adoring. "So you see, your beauty is just another reminder of how much I am undeserving of you, but it is not the reason why I love you."

She lowered her gaze to her hands rested in her lap, and spoke quietly, "You think so highly of me, Erik, but I am not selfless. Not at all." Before he could protest, she was already explaining what she meant in her shy voice. "I am the one who could not decide what I wanted. When we met, I instantly knew that there were feelings there, emotions that I could not explain. But when you lost your temper, I was frightened, and I tried to run from those feelings."

Finally lifting her brown eyes to meet his bemused gaze, she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I used Raoul for comfort." Erik's jaw visibly tightened at the mention of his name, but Christine continued. "I made him promises that, in the back of my mind, I knew I could not keep. I was hurting him and hurting you, and that was very selfish of me." Her voice thickened, and Erik began to shake his head.

"That is…entirely untrue," he said, frustrated. "You had every right to do those things. You were doing what you thought was best for you. _I_ am the one who deceived you, frightened you, and forced you to choose. And you chose to save your boy, unselfishly." Erik stood suddenly, beginning to pace angrily. "If I were not so hideously selfish," he spat bitterly, "I would have let you go with that... You would have married your childhood sweetheart, been happy, and I would suffer all of the pain and loss I deserve. And yet, here you are with me, because I could never be man enough to live without you."

Erik stopped, facing away from her, his breathing ragged from his anger. Christine's heart ached for the man. _I cannot live without you either, now,_ she wanted to say, but could not bring the courage to do so. She got up and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest.

Sighing heavily, Erik immediately returned her embrace, unable to resist her sweet comfort that was like a drug to him now.

"Perhaps it is not such a bad thing that you are so selfish," her tone was slightly teasing as she mumbled into his chest. As she continued, though, she grew serious, running her hands along his back. "For if you were not, I wouldn't be here in your arms in this moment, feeling like this is exactly where I belong."

Could one's heart pause in its beating? Erik could scarcely believe that was how Christine was really feeling, and he pulled back to take her face in his hands, tilting it so he could see her eyes. His own were filled with disbelief, but all he saw was truth in hers, and he very nearly burst from it.

"Christine," he whispered in agony. " _My_ Christine. How I love you…"

His tortured expression tugged at her heart, and she leaned in to kiss him on his bare cheek, wanting to comfort him in any way she could. As soon as her lips made contact with his skin, though, they both breathed a little quicker, the environment around them suddenly warmer. Unable to pull away, she kissed down his cheek, across his jawline, and back up towards his ear. She pressed her lips to the space just below it, loving how Erik's intake of breath sounded more like a hiss of pleasure.

Erik trembled; each of her soft kisses sending a shock through his system. If she did not stop soon, he would surely do something he would regret. But Christine carried on with her sweet torture, kissing every inch of his exposed face and neck.

She drank in his scent, his manly spiciness making her weak in the knees. Placing her hands against his chest, she marveled at the hard, smooth skin there, only covered by his thin white shirt. She kissed every bare space that was peeking through his neckline.

And Erik could not take it anymore.

Breathing quite heavily, he grabbed her arms and pushed her down onto the sofa. Her blood raced at the sight of his hungry eyes, and was thrilled when he climbed on top of her and kissed her mouth almost violently. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her hips eagerly up against his, needing some kind of pressure to be met with her burning lower half. She burned even hotter when she could feel his arousal through their clothes, and broke away from their kiss, gasping.

He kissed her neck like she had done, wanting to torture her the way she had tortured him. His hot kisses trailed down her neck and back up towards her ear, imitating the way she had kissed him, except when he got to her ear he gently grazed her earlobe with his teeth.

Shocked by the sensation, shivers ran through her body, and she could not hold back the desperate moan that escaped her.

The delicious sound drove Erik mad, and he nearly growled as he brought his mouth back to hers. His hips unconsciously rubbed against hers as they kissed, the sensation making his head swim and his stomach ache with longing. The way Christine was responding so eagerly to him both pleased and surprised him, and he broke their kiss, pulling back to look into her eyes.

They were both breathing heavily.

"Christine," he groaned, seeing the blush on her cheeks and the desire in her eyes.

"Erik," she responded, her voice high-pitched and mangled with pure need, sounding like a complete stranger to both of them.

Suddenly, Erik stood, sweeping Christine up into his arms from the couch effortlessly, never taking his eyes off of her face. He carried them up the stairs and into her bedroom, illuminated by the moon and starlight coming through the windows. He set her on her feet and kissed her lips again tenderly, not so aggressively as before.

Still, the effect of his kiss was all the same to Christine, her heart racing and feeling as if she would melt where she stood. She pressed closer to him, trying to deepen the kiss.

Erik sighed and pulled away with reluctance, knowing he would not be able to control himself if they continued. He would never do anything without knowing for sure that Christine was comfortable with it, and so he would not risk losing control again.

Christine could guess just why he pulled away and did not protest, though her entire body ached for her to do just that. She wished that she could just blurt out that she loved him and wanted him, right now, but she just could not find the courage to.

Or maybe she knew, deep in her soul, that she was not quite ready yet. She had one task to finish before she could move forward.

They stood there for a while, gazing into each other's eyes, trying to calm their breathing. Eventually, Erik broke the silence, his voice calm and collected, "I am…going downstairs to change and clean up, and I will be back later to tend your fire."

Christine smiled politely and nodded, thankful for some time alone to think. He kissed her hand and strode from the room, closing the door behind him.

As soon as his footsteps faded, Christine groaned and flung herself onto the bed. She was so frustrated! Her body was tense and in need of some kind of release, yet she could not bring herself to make it happen just yet.

 _Raoul._ She sighed sadly as she remembered his letter.

Christine knew what she must do: she would respond to Raoul's letter so that he may get the closure he deserved. Only then she would finally be ready to give herself to Erik completely.

Taking a deep breath, she searched her room for a pen and paper, finding some in the drawer of her bedside table. She hastily wrote her reply kneeling there on the floor, thankful for the moonlight coming in through the widows.

 _Raoul,_ she wrote.

 _Your letter has caused me a great deal of pain. It breaks my heart to hear how you have been feeling since we parted. I find that I need to be completely honest with you, even though it may hurt the both of us. We are married now, Raoul. I married him just yesterday. I am not unhappy, to my surprise and yours, I am sure. My feelings for him are growing every day. Please trust me when I say that I am not trying to hurt you. I care for you enough to want you to try to move on and be happy. That being said, I need you to stop your searching. If you truly loved me, as you said, you would do that for me and for yourself. Please know that I never meant to cause you any pain, and I pray that this letter will bring you the closure that you need and deserve. I also ask that you do not write me again, just to make it easier on the both of us. I could never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you. I wish you nothing but happiness, Raoul. Never forget that._

 _Forgive me,_

 _Christine_

Her throat was tight and her eyes were wet as she finished the letter, folding it gently and placing it back in the drawer with the pen. Was it too harsh? No, she needed to be as honest as possible so that he will understand. She would give it to Adele in the morning to deliver it, and then she would put Raoul from her mind as best as she could.

She began readying herself for bed, exhausted, attempting to focus on more pleasant thoughts. Kissing Erik took a lot more out of her than she would have expected kissing someone could. He still had not returned from downstairs, so she managed to unbutton her dress on her own with much effort. She stripped off her corset, thankful to be rid of the ghastly thing, and silently vowed to wear a dress that would not require one tomorrow. She removed the pins from her hair and shook her curls loose with a sigh of relief, finger combing the wild mass.

Down to her undergarments, Christine stood in front of the mirror and blushed when she saw how the moonlight made her thin chemise quite see-through. If Erik had walked in right then, he would see her entire body! She giggled at the thought of that, imagining how his eyes would widen. She wondered if he would look away or if his eyes would linger, and she would have waited for him to find out if she were not so tired.

After throwing on her nightgown, she crawled into bed and underneath the thick bedding, and was dreaming of Erik within minutes.


	14. Chapter 14

**This chapter was a struggle to write, but I really hope you guys like it. As always, thanks so much for the reviews, follows, favorites, etc. Nothing makes me happier than reading y'all's thoughts/comments. With that being said, please don't forget to review. :)**

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Chapter 14

The next week passed without incident. Christine had given Adele her letter to Raoul and instructed her to bring it to Madame Giry.

When Adele had wondered why Christine did not want her delivering it to the Vicomte herself, Christine had explained quietly, "I do not want to risk him following you back here; I am sure he would if he got the chance, and…he cannot know where I am." Adele had obliged without further questioning.

The days passed and Christine had not received a reply from Raoul, which comforted her. Perhaps he would move on after all.

The weather was getting gradually warmer each day. Christine would sometimes ask Erik to take a walk with her in the afternoon sun after they sang. They would stroll through the garden, noticing the little buds that would sprout flowers any day now. Christine looked forward to when she could gather an arrangement and put them in a vase for the dinner table.

Her heated dreams of Erik continued nearly every night. She would often wake sweating and aching, and it was getting harder and harder for her to deal with. The most frustrating part about it was that Erik had not kissed her again that whole week.

He did not want to do anything that would cause him to get carried away. Besides, Erik was happy enough just having her beside him.

But Christine did not quite understand why he had been so distant, and that made her long for him even more. By the end of the week, she thought she would die if she delayed their union any longer. After waking up one morning sweating and shaking with desire from her dream of him, she silently vowed to tell him her feelings that night. Nothing was holding her back any more. They would finally be together like an actual married couple.

The thought made her stomach flutter with both excitement and nerves. She had no idea what to expect.

Rolling her eyes, she recalled the rumor in the Opera House that she had been sleeping with Raoul. That could not be further from the truth. They had done nothing more than kiss.

All she knew about the act between a man and a woman was what she had overheard from fellow chorus girls throughout the years, which was not very much. The first time had been painful for some of them, and not at all for others. Honestly, Christine did not care if it was painful at first, so long as it gave her some type of relief in her body…

She was sitting on her bed as she pondered these things, gazing out into the bright morning through the window. She jumped when there was a knock on her door, breaking her from her thoughts. Clearing her throat, she called, "Come in."

Adele entered, fanning herself with her hand. "Goodness," she said breathlessly. "It is quite muggy today. If you plan on going outside I advise you wear something light."

Christine smiled in welcome to the woman, but her tenseness was still visible, her hands twisting together and her eyes distant.

Adele teased her, "You know, for a newly married woman you sure do always seem unsatisfied." They had obviously grown very comfortable with one another.

Christine's eyes went wide, her cheeks flushing. "Adele!" she scolded with a startled laugh.

"It's true, dear. Why do you always seem so tense?" Her voice lowered to a whisper. "Does the master not…please you?" She wiggled her eyebrows and Christine threw a pillow at her, both of them laughing.

As her laughter calmed, Christine contemplated asking Adele for advice about…the act. Of course, Adele would think them strange for not making love already, considering they had been married an entire week, and how embarrassing it would be to confess that…but Adele was the only person around that she could talk to about it. If it would help ease her nerves, than she would have to deal with the embarrassment.

She finally asked shyly, "May I confess something to you?"

Adele slowly came to sit next to her on the bed, concerned by her sudden change in tone. "Of course," the woman said, all teasing gone from her voice.

Christine hesitated before leaning close to her and whispering, "We have not…made love yet." She bit her lip, watching as Adele's brows furrowed.

"But…" Adele stammered, "You have been married for a week now…?"

Christine sighed, "I know it seems strange, but Erik and I's marriage is not quite normal. You see, he never expected me to…and he does not think I _want_ to. But I do…and I do not think he realizes that." She paused, taking a breath. "He would _never_ make me do it if I was not ready to; he is happy enough just having me as his wife. But now I…oh, am I making any sense at all?"

Adele smiled, her voice soft as she replied, "Ah, this man must really love you. Child, I have heard of marriages where young women are forced into bed whether they like it or not. Consider yourself extremely lucky."

She was, Christine realized. How awful it must be for those women to get their first times stolen from them. She could only imagine how she would be feeling if Erik had done just that...

No, he was not that kind of man. He had his flaws, his demons, of course, but he would never do _that._

Adele squeezed her hand, and Christine looked up with twinkling brown eyes. "I think I am ready, Adele," she whispered. "Tonight. I want to do it tonight. But…I am so nervous! Have you any tips? What was your first time like? Was it painful? Did it feel-"

"Slow down, girl," Adele laughed, and then her eyes went distant, remembering. "The first time…my, that was so long ago. It was my wedding night. I do not remember it being too painful, maybe a bit uncomfortable at first. Lucien was very gentle and loving, though we were both a bit clueless and awkward. Ah, well, it was a wonderful night all in all. And I am sure it will be magical for you too." The woman patted her head affectionately.

"Thank you, Adele," Christine said, feeling comforted and less nervous. She took Adele's hand. "Any other advice?"

"Just give yourself over to your senses. If you two are meant to be, it will be lovely no matter what. Do not overthink it, my dear."

Christine nodded, embracing her, thankful for her help. She began to wonder if Erik had known all along that she would need someone to talk to about these things…

Christine dressed quickly in a light, cotton dress of ice blue that, thankfully, did not require a corset. She had breakfast and drank tea with Adele before helping her with her chores like she usually did. They shared another embrace before Adele left, and as soon as she was gone, Christine rushed to the music room to see Erik.

He was, of course, masked and sitting at his instrument. He rose as soon as she entered, and she beamed at him, excited for the afternoon before them, and even more excited for the evening that would follow. His answering smile, though small, put flutters in her belly. She marched right up to him and stretched on her toes to kiss him boldly on the mouth.

Startled, Erik kissed her back in a daze, very pleased by her unexpected affection. She broke away, still smiling, and Erik's ocean eyes were wide.

After a moment he cleared his throat, his voice low as he said, "Well, hello there."

Christine laughed breathlessly and looked away, blushing. Oh, how she could not wait to spend the night with him.

"What are we singing today?" she asked.

"I thought we could take a ride instead."

She did not care what they did, so long as they were together. She took his hand and nodded. "Okay, Erik. That sounds lovely." His eyes seemed to melt into hers, the warmness of his gaze taking her breath away.

Christine's hand in his, seeming like she was really happy to be there with him…Erik's heart swelled with unmistakable joy. Unable to resist, he leaned in and kissed her lips for a brief second before leading her from the room and out of the house.

The sun was shining brilliantly, and there was not a cloud in sight; a rare day after the long winter Paris endured. The air did seem quite thick, just as Adele had warned. Erik was in his usual white dress shirt and trousers, with no jacket or waistcoat overtop. She loved the way his chest peeked through the crevice in his shirt. She wondered how marvelous he would look with his shirt all the way off.

Having been optimistic that Christine would agree to ride with him, he had kept Caesar's riding equipment on since their ride that morning, so he was all ready to be ridden.

They mounted him and, instead of taking off down the road like Christine expected, rode straight into the forest. Her curiosity grew as they trotted deeper and deeper into the thick mass of trees. "Where exactly are you taking me, Monsieur?" she finally asked, a smile in her voice.

How Erik adored her playful tone. "You will see, Angel."

They continued on their path for a while, the quiet forest getting more ominous the deeper into it they got. Soon, though, the sounds of water began to register in Christine's ears. Perhaps a river was nearby? She looked around curiously, and Erik said nothing. The rush of water got louder, closer, and they finally crossed through a break in the trees to reveal a little swimming hole hidden in the middle of the forest.

Christine gazed at her surroundings in awe. At the far end of the clearing, there was a tall stack of large, glossy stones with a rush of water coming down them into a clear pool of water. Stones, bright green bushes, and other plantation surrounded the area. The bright sun shone down into the clearing, making the water gleam with every ripple it produced. The waterfall made the area misty and humid, yet Christine could not recall ever being in a place lovelier than this one.

After a moment, Erik dismounted Caesar, helped Christine down, and tied the horse's reins to a nearby tree. He went to stand by her side, looking down at her awed expression. "I came upon this place not too long ago on one of my morning rides with Caesar," he began, his voice velvety smooth. "I thought it had a certain charm to it, and I thought you might appreciate that. What do you think?"

She was completely enchanted by the darling place. She turned to Erik with a blinding smile and cried, "Oh, it is so beautiful, Erik! Thank you for bringing me here!" She embraced him suddenly, and he chuckled in delight, kissing her hair. She went to explore along the rocky shore and Erik watched her as if she were the most entertaining show he had ever seen.

Carefully walking on the rocks, she keept her eyes on her feet, taking care that she would not fall in. The shiny spring did look inviting, though, especially since the thick air caused her to break a sweat and her hair to stick uncomfortably to her neck. She leaned down to test the water's temperature with her finger, but her shift in weight caused the rock she was standing on to wobble. And then, before she could even register what was happening, she lost her balance and fell into the icy water.

Christine resurfaced almost immediately, to the relief of Erik. He blinked in shock, but then could not hold back a rush of laughter when he saw how shocked and confused she was, as if she still did not realize what had happened. His shoulders shook with the tremors of his laughter, and a bright red blush crept into her cheeks, only causing him to laugh harder. He clutched at his stomach, bending forward as he guffawed uncontrollably.

She almost wanted to be angry with him for finding her unfortunate situation so funny, but she had never seen him laugh so hard, and she bit her lip to hide her smile. Erik was still chortling when she managed to escape the pool, absolutely drenched from head to toe.

Christine shivered from the chill of the water, finally becoming irritated when Erik did not cease laughing. "That is quite enough, I think," she quipped, her teeth chattering. "I doubt you would be laughing if _you_ were the one soaked in ice cold water."

Coughing, Erik struggled to quiet his laughter, but found her annoyance quite funny as well. "Forgive me," he chuckled, straightening. "I do not wish to offend."

Rolling her eyes, Christine walked toward him slowly. Yes, she was soaked, and he was completely dry, but she could change that with just one embrace. A devilish smile lit up her face as she threw her arms around him, squeezing herself to him as hard as she could.

Erik hissed at the sudden cold wetness all over him. "Oh, you wicked girl," he growled, sweeping her into him arms. Both of them laughed as he ran her toward the pool.

He teasingly dangled her over the edge of the water, threatening to throw her in. She clutched to him as tight as she could and screamed her protests even though she could tell that he was doing it all in jest. Finally, he carried her away from the water and set her down.

Their laughter finally calmed, and Christine looked down at her soaked dress. "I am going to have to wring this out. Will you help me?" she asked Erik, turning around so he could unbutton.

He obliged with hesitance, trying very hard to ignore the way her wet clothes clung to her womanly curves. "I will…just go sit over there," he stuttered, pointing. "I, ah, promise not to…look." He strode away quickly, and sat on a rock facing the waterfall.

Christine shook her head and giggled at his shyness, thinking it quite adorable. She stepped out of her dress and wrung it out as best as she could. Luckily the light fabric did not absorb much water. She laid it across a flat-topped boulder she had found near by and then removed her boots and stockings so that they could dry as well.

Her hair dripping, she shook it out with her fingers and squeezed the excess water out. Her wet chemise and drawers clung to her, and she realized that she needed to wring those out too. She hastily removed them, making her completely naked in the broad daylight. She wrung each out fast, then threw the damp fabric back on, her heart pounding for fear that Erik might just happen to turn and see.

She need not have worried, of course. Erik had been a gentleman and not glanced at her once, just like he promised. She donned her damp dress, leaving the buttons undone and her stockings off for now. Then, she went to Erik and sat by him, looping her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder. His warmth and now familiar scent flooded her senses, and she shivered with delight.

They sat in silence for while, watching the waterfall and listening to the sounds of nature around them. They both felt the contentment, the happiness, the peacefulness, wishing the perfect moment would never end.

With the bright sun shining down, it did not take too long for Christine's clothing to dry. It was getting later in the afternoon, and Erik decided to take them home for an early dinner.

She was quiet on the ride home and at the table, trying to figure out exactly how she should go about telling her feelings to Erik. By the time they were finished, though, she still did not know what she was going to say or how she was going to say it. Erik had written that beautiful song for her, and then poured his heart. How on Earth could she top that?

As Erik cleaned up, Christine excused herself to bathe and change. She was thankful to have some time to clean up and mentally prepare herself. She soaked in a warm, rose-oil infused bath, taking deep breaths and trying not to think too much about what she was about to do. The twisting nervousness in her belly frightened her; making her wonder if what she was about to do was wrong. But no, it could not be. She was Erik's wife, and she loved him. There was nothing wrong with that…

Right?

The setting sun coming through the windows illuminated the bathroom in an orangey glow, and Christine chewed on her lip as she cleansed her body thoroughly. When the water grew lukewarm, she dried off with a thick towel and put on the fresh undergarments and dressing robe she had brought from her room.

She freed her hair from its pins, shaking out her curls and finger combing them. In the mirror she could see how her cheeks flushed with excitement and nervousness, her dark eyes wide. Taking a deep breath, she exited and went to her bedroom, surprised to find Erik there, facing away from her, looking out the window. She had not expected him to be in her room already, and it made her heart begin to race.

A fire burned strong in the hearth, which explained why he had come, but he had not turned when she entered, which was odd. Something about his stance made her think he was tense…or angry.

How silly. After the wonderful day they had had? It must be all in her head. She slowly went to him, putting a hesitant hand on his shoulder, but he only tensed more, still not looking at her. "Erik?" she asked softly, worried now. "What is wrong?"

When he finally turned to her, his expression made her stomach twist. His jaw was taught, his eyes not holding one single ounce of warmth. This face did not belong to the man she had spent the afternoon with, the man she had married and gotten to know over the weeks.

No, this face belonged to the Phantom.

Erik produced a sheet of paper, holding it up as if to answer her question. Christine did not understand at first, but her face went pale as she realized what he was holding, staring at the paper in horror.

Raoul's letter.

Erik's voice was like ice. "What is this?"


	15. Chapter 15

**This chapter changed quite a bit from the original, so if you are a returning reader I really hope you don't mind the changes. I just felt like I went a little too easy on Erik, and this chapter just needed to be changed for Christine's and their relationship's sake. If you are a new reader, I really hope you enjoy. :)**

 **Please review, and let me know what you think!**

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Chapter 15

The chill of Erik's voice had frozen her. She could not respond.

He looked nearly mad with rage, and she was terrified, knowing what he was capable of when he got angry. _God Christine._ Why had she not burned the damned letter the second she had finished reading it?

When she opened her mouth to speak, no sound came, and she merely shook her head slowly, back and forth, pleading with her eyes. It did not help; he continued his awful glare, waiting, and every second that she did not speak he seemed to get angrier. And then, he finally snapped. " _Answer me_!" he shouted, and she jumped and whimpered, flinching away though he had made no advances.

"I…" Christine gasped, "It…is a-a letter." She was trembling. Tears pricked her eyes, knowing that this was very bad, and not seeing any solution on how she could make it better. Her plans for the evening had been ruined.

Erik's breathing heavy, overwhelmed by his anger, he looked at the paper and began mockingly reciting it. "Dearest Little Lotte," he spat, "I will never understand why you would choose that beast of man over a life of freedom. I will rescue you and I will have him arrested so that we may live our lives in peace, just like the original plan." He was laughing now, the sound containing no humor and terrifying Christine all the more.

"Erik, please…" she whispered, the tears escaping her eyes now.

Ripping the letter to pieces, he stalked closer to her and she stumbled backward. "I will kill him," he spluttered menacingly. "I swear, Christine, I will kill your precious boy and enjoy every second of it."

His eyes were wild with his rage, and soon Christine's back pressed against the wall, cornered. She shook her head, her eyes wide with horror, which only served to enrage Erik all the more.

"Ah, so you wrote him back, then? You told him where you are, and you are just patiently waiting for your lover to rescue you, hmm?" His voice was even and low, the sound of it so sinister that it was much, much worse than if he were shouting.

"Erik, how could you think that?" she cried. "No! I did not tell him where I am! I wouldn't…" Her words were doing no good, and she could see that. How could he think she would betray him like that, after how much they had grown together? It felt like someone was squeezing her heart and twisting it around their hands, and a sob ripped through her chest.

He struggled to calm himself, knowing that he was frightening her, but unable to calm down no matter how hard he tried. Taking a deep, hissing breath, he placed his hands against the wall on either side of Christine's head, getting dangerously close to her face.

"How did you receive it?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Christine swallowed, sniffling. "Madame Giry," she breathed. He nodded as if he suspected as much, sneering bitterly.

A long pause. "And…did you respond?" Christine heard the tiny amount of hope in his voice, the longing for her to say no.

More tears spilled as she said shakily, "Erik, it is not at all what you think-"

He stopped her with a warning look in his cold eyes. Then, he demanded, slow and even, "Did you or did you not respond to him?"

She closed her eyes, willing the entire situation to go away, but when she opened them, they were still met with his hard stare. "Yes," she finally admitted, her voice as small as she felt. Christine awaited his angry reaction. Maybe he would shout, or throw things, or strike…no, she still did not believe he would hurt her. Instead, she was met with something else entirely. Erik's masked face crumpled in pain, and he dropped to his knees before her, his hands clutching the bottom of her robe. She watched in horror, her mouth agape and tears streaming down her face, as his shoulders began to shake with his quiet sobs.

"You are _my_ wife, Christine." The amount of sadness in that single sentence pierced through her heart. Still, she felt a hint of anger at him as well as hurt. She had come to hope that their relationship was one between equals, but here he was, claiming that he owned her again. The realization stung much, much more than she thought it would.

"Erik, please stop," Christine whispered. "It really is not what you think. I told him not to look for me. I told him that we were married now. I told him that I have feelings for _you._ I only tried to bring him closure. He was in such pain..."

He did not respond, just continued to cry on his knees before her. She heard his unspoken words, though: for she had caused _him_ such pain in trying to ease Raoul's. Her face fell into her hands. How had such a wonderful day turned into this awful nightmare? "I am sorry," she whispered.

The room darkened considerably with the falling sun, neither of them saying more for a while, even after each of their tears subsided.

Christine searched her brain, trying to find a way to fix this, but coming up with nothing. There was no convincing Erik otherwise when his brain was set on something. She should have known, and she had never been more frustrated with herself. Her plans for their evening were disgustingly ruined by her carelessness, and she had hurt the man she loved trying to help another. Would he even believe her if she told him that she loved him now?

Before she could find out, Erik rose to his feet slowly, avoiding her gaze. Christine took a shaky breath. "Erik," she said thickly. "I never meant to hurt you." She reached a hand out to take his, but he flinched away from her touch. She swallowed the sob that threatened. "You have to believe me. I do not love Raoul anymore. I-" He lifted a hand to stop her.

" _Do not_ ," he warned harshly, but then his whisper was so agonizing that she nearly broke. "You do not have to. I see now that…this was all a mistake. It is not your fault."

Christine rapidly protested, pleading, "No! Erik, I-"

He interrupted her quietly. "I need to be alone. Goodnight, Christine." He was already out the door before she could protest any further.

The silence that followed his exit was torture, and Christine sunk to the floor and wept until there were no more tears left.

* * *

He shut her out. For five whole days, Erik would not see her.

The morning after he had found the letter, Adele asked how her evening went, and she did not answer. She merely lied in bed, shaking her head and trying not to cry again, though the attempt was futile. Christine cried so much after that night.

Adele pressed her to talk about, but she would not say a word, and the housekeeper wondered if she were ill, though she had no fever. She stayed in bed most of the day, not eating much and barely speaking it all. Perhaps the girl was depressed, if not sick. It was deeply concerning, and Adele vowed to inform Madame Giry and see what she had to say about it.

Christine tried to see him. Every day after the housekeeper left, she always went straight to the music room and found it locked. She banged on the door desperately, called his name, even cried, but he would not let her in; would not even say a word. Each day he did this made her angrier and more hurt, and Christine thought she would go mad if it continued.

On the sixth day, she tried one last time, knowing what was to be done if he persisted in ignoring her. Of course, he did not answer, and that was it. Christine knew that _she_ was not in the wrong. Erik was.

And she was done.

God, how had she forgiven him for everything so easily? She completely forgot _everything_ he had done to her, his deception, his madness, his murderous rage…she had fallen in love with him, and had forgotten everything else. And now, _she_ was the one being punished for it, when she really did nothing wrong. She did what she had to do to bring Raoul and herself closure, and Erik simply would not listen. He believed what he wanted to believe and completely disregarded her explanation.

She could forgive everything he had done, but he could not forgive this?

Perhaps she had been too optimistic for them two. Erik was still acting like he owned her, and the realization broke her heart. If they were not equals, then they could be nothing.

And now, if he was not going to see her, then she was going to leave. She had been slowly contemplating leaving since he shut her out, and now her decision was made.

Of course, she did not want to leave the man she loved; she cried harder each time the thought even entered her mind. But she needed to do this, to see if he would only hunt her down and take her back, or if he would let her go, showing her that she was free to make her own choices. She had chosen him that night below the Opera, but the circumstances had not been in her control. If they were meant to be, then he would let her make her own choice. This time, it mattered.

She quietly wept as she dragged herself up the stairs, preparing to leave. There was not much she could do but dress in clothes suitable for traveling. She would be walking for a while. She knew the general direction of town, and she would have to walk until someone recognized her and offered her a ride. And then, she would find Madame Giry.

One last glance in the mirror, finding her face pale, her eyes red and swollen and wet, and she second-guessed everything. _I cannot do it. I love him._ But no…she knew this was the only way. If Erik truly loved her, he would not be treating her this way.

Christine let her anger motivate her, and she found the strength to stride back down the stairs and out the front door.

The sky was grey and the air was cold, and she scoffed inwardly, thinking how fitting it was. She walked down the empty road, lifting the hood of her cloak, trying very hard not to think. As if that were possible. His name echoed through her mind, stinging her over and over. _Erik._ Damn him. _Erik._ She loved him. _Erik._ How dare he? _Erik. Erik. Erik. I love you. I hate you. I miss you._

Christine expected Erik to come after her. He was not one to sit back and allow things to happen when it was not what he wanted. She feared what would happen if he only dragged her back with him without apology. If he did…they could be nothing. She would be his wife on paper only, but that would be it. She would not allow him to touch her, or allow herself to touch him, if she could be so strong. She would _not_ be his prisoner any longer. One could not be a willing wife when she was being held against her will.

But…what if he did not come after her at all? What if he was too angry to even try, however misplaced his anger may be? What if…he did not love her anymore? The thought was agonizing, despite everything, and she sobbed as she walked. God, she was so sick of crying. She feared she would never be able to stop. The conflicting thoughts and emotions were so confusing, frustrating, and almost too much to bear entirely. What exactly did she want to happen?

 _He needs to let you go, so that you may come back with him willingly._ Sighing, she doubted that would ever happen, but she still hoped.

She walked for a while, and she was still very far from other civilization. It would be all right, though. It could not be more than a couple of miles to the city…could it? Ah, someone was bound to pass by at some point. Perhaps she will have gotten her emotions under control by then. But now, she still sniffled, still wiped the tears from her face every few minutes.

What hurt the most was what she had been so close to having. She remembered that day in the forest with the spring, how absolutely perfect it had been with him. How she wished she could go back, tear up the letter and throw it into the fireplace, and relive that night without all the conflict. She could imagine it all as she closed her eyes. Christine would have found Erik in her room, waiting for her. She would wrap her arms around his neck, stretch up on her toes to kiss him deeply, passionately. When she pulled away, she would gaze into his brilliant blue eyes that were awestruck and filled with so much love for her, and her voice would ring strong and true and pure as she said, "I love you, too." And then, they would have become one, and everything else in the past would be far behind them.

 _No backward glances._

She suddenly remembered the lyric from Erik's opera. That was what he had wanted for them all along, she knew, and she understood why he was so upset over her responding to Raoul's letter. He thought she was holding on to her past, missing it, _wanting_ it, when she was only trying to move on from it. Still, he had no right to treat her like he had. It was unfair and undeserved, and he needed to realize that.

Her feet began to ache after an hour or so, but she persisted. She wondered if Erik would even notice she left at all, locked up as he had been for almost an entire week. Chewing on her lip, she wondered again how he would react when he finally emerged and found her gone. Would he be angry, hurt, indifferent?

It seemed she would find out soon enough.

The sound of a horse approaching fast from behind registered in her ears, and Christine's heart raced. She did not turn, however, just continued to stare forward and walk. If she turned to look and it was not he on that horse, she…well, she had no idea what she would feel, but she had a feeling deep in her gut that it indeed was Erik coming up quickly.

She felt the breeze of the horse's speed as it shot past her, and its unmistakable black fur and Erik's strong form atop it were enough to put a nervous flutter in her stomach. He pulled the horse to an abrupt halt some twenty-feet in front of her, and she froze as he dismounted quickly and walked her way. Even from afar, she could see his clenched jaw, his blazing eyes, his usual perfect appearance disheveled and unkempt. He wore only trousers and a dress shirt that was wrinkled and un-tucked on one side.

Swallowing, she crossed her arms across her chest and lifted her chin, though she was sure her puffy red eyes and tear stroked face made her look as weak as she felt. _Be strong, Christine._ This was when it mattered the most. Erik was walking up fast, and she feared he would grab her when he got close.

He did not. He stopped only inches away, towering over her and nearly melting her with his scorching, wild, furious eyes.

"And where do you think you are going, Christine?" His usual silky voice was rough and gravely, the sound setting her on edge.

"Erik," she greeted icily. "How pleasant of you to finally decide to see me."

He pointed behind him to the horse. "Let's go." His tone held no room for argument, yet she narrowed her eyes and did just that.

"No!" she shouted in his face, startling him and herself. She had never screamed at him before. "I am not going with you like this, Erik! Not after you treated me like you did, when I did nothing wrong! I tried to explain, but you would not listen! No, you only believe what you want to believe! And then…refusing to see me, Erik?" Her voice broke, and she looked down, swallowing thickly. "After I forgave you for everything, became your wife _willingly,_ you could not even _see_ me or speak to me for days?" She was crying now, her brown eyes wild.

"Christine," he choked, tormented by her obvious hurt. His own anger had faded away the second she began yelling at him, which she had never done. And her tears…he would gouge his eyes out happily before ever seeing her cry again. Anger was replaced with desperation. "You do not understand. I _needed_ to shut myself away. I…did not think you cared."

She shoved his chest, and he stumbled a step back at her surprising strength. "Horse shit!" she cried. "Tell me the truth! You cannot possibly think I do not care for you after these weeks!"

"Fine," Erik growled. "You want to know?" He stalked closer, getting right in her face. "It took everything in me not to leave and hunt that _boy_ down and snap his neck." Christine flinched, and he nodded once. "Yes, I knew you would not be fond of that, my dear. It was either lock myself up or leave and kill. I was doing it _for you._ "

She gaped at him, speechless.

He continued, nearly shouting. "Because _you_ are everything to me! And I do not want to hurt you ever again. That night, when I found it…I was so angry, and I knew I was hurting you, and I loathed myself for it." His voice hoarsened, his hands coming up to clutch her upper arms firmly, yet gently. "I am always hurting you. I hate it, Christine." He shuddered, beginning to cry.

Unthinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself close, letting him cry into her shoulder.

"I do not deserve you," Erik whispered, while clutching her to him like the lifeline she was. She only shushed him, patting his fake hair soothingly, and he wondered how he would live after he let her go.

He had to, he knew, and the realization twisted his stomach and very nearly made him collapse at her feet again. Even though she was like a drug to his weak system, even though she was soft and perfect and kind and _everything_ …he had to let her go. She had been right to leave him, and he loved her enough that he could not stop her from doing what she wanted anymore. She had shown him more kindness than he had ever deserved by going with him and becoming his wife, and he would do whatever it took to repay her.

Christine comforted him, and she knew that if he demanded for her to go back with him after this, she would not argue. She was too weak, and she loved him too much. And he needed her.

When Erik finally pulled away, his tearful eyes were filled with such infinite sorrow that her heart squeezed painfully. She waited, though, for what he would say next. What he said would determine everything.

He took a breath, straightened out of her embrace, and avoided her gaze. "All right," he murmured brokenly. "I…will not stop you. You may go."


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello, my loves! I had a question from a reviewer asking if Erik's eyes are supposed to be green, since I always describe them as blue. Gerard Butler's eyes are blue in real life (I'm more into brown eyes myself but God, they are gorgeous) and I know they look more green in the movie. I guess he wore contacts? Idk. Anyway, I just felt like blue suited my Erik best, but you can always imagine them how you want, of course. :)**

 **This chapter is a tad short, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. This chapter fast approaches the M rating.** **As always, thanks so much for the reviews. Please keep them coming!**

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Chapter 16

"Really?" Christine breathed, hardly able to believe what Erik had said. Would he really give in that easily?

But it was not so easy, she saw now. Erik looked terrible; his body slumped with weakness and grief, his eyes lifeless and tired and so, so sad. He nodded once, and he turned and stumbled toward his horse. Her heart raced and swelled at the realization that he was being serious, and she was just about to stop him when he turned and came back to her slowly.

"I…" his voice was a mere whisper, and he choked back a sob. "I swear I will let you go. You have my word. But…at least permit me to take you wherever you wish to go safely? And then…I will leave. I swear it." He met those beautiful brown eyes, their loveliness making him feel sick to his stomach, and then watched as they went from shocked to bright and twinkling.

She felt as if the sun had broken through the clouds, though no such thing occurred. Everything looked brighter, clearer, more beautiful. Especially _him._ Even in this heartbroken, weak state that she had never seen him in, he was the most beautiful of it all. Her skin tingled, tears of absolute joy welled in her eyes, and she smiled. _Really_ smiled, for the very first time in days. And then she laughed breathlessly.

He stared at her, slight confusion evident in his sad eyes. She felt light and wonderful as she came closer to him, raising her arms to cup his face gently, one hand feeling the warmth of his skin, the other the coolness of his mask. "Erik," she sighed, his name coming out like a caress. "That will not be necessary." And then she brought his face down to hers, met his startled lips with her own. Swallowing the tortured sound he emitted, she poured all of her joy and love into her kiss, clutching his shirt and pulling him as close as he could get.

"Christine," he moaned, pushing her away. "What…I cannot take it, please." Her breathtaking smile confused him, hurt him, and entranced him all at once.

"Erik, don't you see? I needed to know that you would allow me to make my own choice. And you did! And…I want to be with you. I choose you." She laughed joyously, loving how his ocean eyes finally began to understand, and light up. She kissed him again, and he responded with a force that took her breath away.

When she broke away, gasping for air, they both laughed. And they both cried.

* * *

It was nearly dark by the time they returned home, and the imposing house never looked more inviting. Christine had Erik by her side again, and this time it was _right._ Her stomach flipped when she thought about the possibilities ahead. She would wait for the perfect moment, confess her love, and nothing would hold her back from being with him the way she so desired.

Erik seemed almost in a trance as he led her back inside and immediately set to preparing a meal for them. He must still be in shock, she decided, but at least it was a happy sort of shocked. She looked forward to reassuring him, day after day.

As Erik cooked, Christine went upstairs to clean up and change, feeling dirty and in need of a bath to soothe her aching muscles. After a quick soak, she donned fresh undergarments and her robe, much too lazy to put on a full dress. Feeling like a whole new person, she checked herself in the mirror to find the same Christine. Well, she at least had some color to her cheeks once again, some life in her eyes.

Christine returned downstairs and lit a few candles on the table while Erik finished up their dinner. She set the table as well, and by the time she was finished with that, it was ready. They did not speak much as they ate their meal, but exchanged loving looks and shy smiles. The food was delicious as usual, and paired with a relaxing red wine. After they ate, Christine helped Erik clean up. They cleared the table and washed the dishes, quietly enjoying the presence of one another.

They were towel drying their hands when Christine asked hesitantly, "Erik, will you sing for me tonight? It seems like I have not heard your voice in so long…"

"Of course. Anything for you, Angel." His voice had its silkiness and warmth back, and Christine forgot how to breathe for a second. Still seeming a little dazed, Erik leaned in and kissed her softly on her forehead. She blushed at the unexpected affection, pleased.

They finished cleaning up and Erik escorted her upstairs to her room, tending her fire to ensure she would be warm through the night. Christine was dressed in her nightgown and sitting up on the bed by the time he was through, and when he sat next to her she smiled brightly. His heart stuttered and quickened. Had this whole day been a dream? Or was she truly here, despite everything? He still could not fully grasp it.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, clasping her hands together to hide their trembling. Nerves and anticipation twisted around her belly, and her mouth went dry, realizing the moment had come. She was going to tell him.

"What would you like me to sing?"

His question interrupted her thoughts, and she swallowed, coming up with a plan. "That song…from our wedding day." The very song that made her realize she loved him. She would tell him as soon as he finished.

Erik nodded, quietly clearing his throat, and she lied down on the bed, watching him. He began singing, his voice soothing and hypnotizing her instantly. All of her anxiety faded away with each word he sung, her body relaxing more and more as the sweet melody surrounded her. _I love you._ The words hung on her tongue, just waiting to be said.

Her eyes closed as she savored the beautiful voice of the man she loved, and the next thing she knew, she was somewhere else.

Christine was taken back to a night that seemed so, so long ago, the night _he_ had revealed himself to her, taken her, sang to her. She was lying on the extravagant, swan shaped bed in his home underneath the Opera House.

Studying her surroundings curiously, she slowly got up from the bed, rounding the corner.

 _He_ sat at his instrument, turning to meet her gaze for a moment before going back to his music. She bit her lip and approached where he sat, needing to be close to him, needing to see him. The real him. Who was he? She touched his shoulder, caressed his face, loving how he leaned into her touch, as if it felt wonderful to him. Finding the edge of his mask with her fingertips, she lifted it slowly, removing it from his face.

He stood quickly, glaring at her with wild blue eyes that made her weak. She did not gasp or flinch away from his deformed face, only looked at him with hazy eyes that screamed her desire for him. When she looked down at herself, she was completely naked.

 _His_ hand reached up, grabbing her throat, but not rough enough to inflict any pain or affect her breathing. Pulling her to him, he crushed his mouth down on hers, and Christine clutched at his jacket, pulling him closer and moaning into his lips. This kiss was rough, hungry, intoxicating, and her blood boiled beneath her skin.

Somehow, they ended up on his bed. Christine pushed him down and straddled his waist, bringing her mouth back down on his with urgency. Her hips moved, seeking some sort of friction, and the delicious pressure caused her to whimper. His answering groan was searing, and he flipped them over, Christine now on her back with him atop her, his weight a welcome presence.

He trailed hot kisses down her neck; gradually moving lower, kissing down her chest and stomach, lower still. And then, before she could protest, he was kissing her… _there._

Christine was startled awake, jolting upright in her bed. She looked around her in confusion, gasping and on fire. She groaned when she realized that she had been dreaming, for it had seemed and felt so real. Her empty bed made her eyes tear up, wishing Erik were next to her. He must have left when she fell asleep…

She was not supposed to fall asleep!

Heavy disappointment washed through her, and combined with her overwhelming, aching desire, she could not help the tears that fell. It was the middle of the night, but she needed Erik, and she needed him right now.

Taking deep breaths, she wiped the tears from her eyes and got up. It would not do to come to Erik weeping. Before leaving the dark bedroom, she glanced in the mirror once. Sleep still hung about her; her hair was messy and her nightgown was wrinkled, but she did not care. She turned from the mirror and fled her room, taking each stair down carefully in the dark.

She tiptoed down the hallway, her heart pounding harder and harder as she approached the music room door. Still half asleep, she was unsure why she was doing this now. But she could not turn back, especially when her need was so profound.

Christine silently opened the door, peering into the dark room. The only light came from the fireplace, glowing strong still. Perhaps Erik had not been asleep long; she could just make out his form lying on the chaise lounge. He did not have his own bed? Frowning, she closed the door behind her as quietly as she could, slowly padding over to him.

Erik wore no mask and no wig, which of course she had not expected him to since he was sleeping. His sparse, bronze hair was still slightly damp from the bath he must have taken. It was the first time she had seen his full face since the night she first came to their new home, but of course she did not feel any fear. He was always without his disguise in her heated dreams of him, and the sight of it only fueled her desire more. She would have to tell him not to wear it around her anymore. He had no need to hide from her.

Obviously deep in sleep, his breathing was even and low. He wore black nightclothes, and his bare face was peaceful. He looked quite charming in this state, and his vulnerability seemed to feed her bravery. She knelt onto the floor, until her face was right across from his, her hand shaking as she reached out to caress his face. She whispered his name. "Erik?"

Erik stirred instantly, groaning slightly as his eyes cracked open. He was nearly positive that he was still dreaming, his Christine touching his unmasked face gently and lovingly. A contented sigh left his lips when he saw her, but he stiffened when he realized that he was indeed awake, with Christine near him, and not wearing his mask. He was instantly alert, cringing back from her into the chaise.

"Christine?" he choked, his voice still thick with sleep. His hand came up instantly to shield the deformed side of his face, and he sat up. "What are you doing in here?"

"I woke up from…a dream, and I was going to tell you something before I had gone to sleep. I was not supposed to fall asleep…" He merely stared, obviously tense and confused. "Erik," she sighed, grabbing the hand that shielded his face. "Please, do not cover yourself from me." She pulled his hand and, surprisingly, he let her guide it away from his face.

Rising up off her knees, she sat down beside him, taking his face in her hands tenderly. Slowly, hesitantly, Christine leaned in, warning him with her eyes. His were wary, but not at all angry. She first placed a loving kiss on his left cheek, the perfect one, and then did the same to the ruined right cheek. She remained on that side of his face, trailing soft kisses along every inch of his deformity, stroking tenderly with her fingertips.

At first, he was too shocked to move or react, but Erik soon became overwhelmed by her affection. His breathing grew ragged, and thick tears leaked from his eyes. No one had _ever_ touched the right side of his face before, and here this angel was, _kissing it_. It was too much to bear, and a sob broke through his chest.

She tasted the saltiness of his tears on her lips as she kissed him, but did not cease, learning and mapping every unnatural swell. It was all so soft, surprisingly. She loved this part of him, loved _all_ of him, and he would have to believe her now when she told him. Her kisses trailed toward his mouth, and she placed a lingering kiss on his lips, which he returned, stunned yet grateful.

When Christine finally pulled away to look into his eyes, she saw that they were still filled with tears. Smiling softly, she brushed them away with her fingers, and then met his awestruck gaze.

After a moment, Christine's voice rang out, strong and sure, and yet, still sweet, "Erik, I love you."


	17. Chapter 17

**This is where the fic officially turns M rated. This chapter changed a bit from the original as well, but I have a feeling no one will complain about that. ;)**

 **Please let me know what you think by leaving a review!**

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Chapter 17

He must still be asleep. That was the only explanation he could think of. There was no way in hell that the angel before him had actually told him she loved him, just no way. But…her soft, gentle hands on him felt so real, so warm. His face, wet with tears, still tingled from where her lips had touched it. Could it be real…? After all they had been through, all he had done to her, she still chose to love him?

Erik shook his head, his eyes wide and pooling with moisture. "No," he whispered, "It cannot be."

Christine's eyebrows pulled together. "What do you mean?" she asked softly, patiently.

"I am a monster," he choked out, as if the statement were obvious. "How could you love such an awful, hideous creature? It is not possible!"

Her heart squeezed painfully, and she brushed her thumbs on his cheeks in a soothing motion. "You are not a monster, and you are not hideous, and it _is_ possible."

"Really, Christine?" he hissed, gesturing to his face. "You cannot sit there and tell me that when you are face to face with _this_."

Christine swallowed the sob that threatened and leaned in to kiss his ruined face just as she did before. "I love you, Erik," she whispered between kisses. "I have known it for a while now. And after today I will not hold back anymore."

Erik sighed, a sound coming out with the air that made it more of a pained whimper. He still could not believe it…but he could not resist her. Relaxing slightly, he savored the feel of her perfect lips on his imperfect face, his trembling hands barely running down her arms.

She eventually pulled away to meet his eyes. "You may not have what one might call a beautiful face, but I have seen _your_ beauty. I have felt it. When you sing, when you look at me, when you touch me…" she trailed off shakily, her hands slipping down his face and resting on his hard chest. Desire coursed through her again, heady and strong. But then, Erik's chest heaved under her hands with a sob.

"Christine," he cried, suddenly crushing her to him in an embrace. " _My_ Christine! You do not understand how happy you have made me. I am not worthy of your love, not at all."

She wrapped her arms around him, her hands running along his back comfortingly. "You are worthy, Erik. I love you, and I am proud to be your wife. And…I am ready…ready to be a _real_ wife to you." Could he hear how her heart pounded, how her voice shook with her nerves?

Erik pulled away slowly, his hands coming back to hold the sides of her arms, his lips parted in disbelief. Her dark eyes were filled with unmistakable desire, and his mouth went dry. Swallowing, Erik noticed how the air changed between them in this moment, getting warmer and thicker. Shaking fingers lightly stroked her cheek, and it was a moment before he realized they were _his._

Her cheek burned where he touched, ever hesitant. Staring at him, she licked her lips, hearing his breath hitch as she did. And then, she leaned in and pressed her lips against his softly, and he slowly brought his arms around her back. They kissed each other carefully for a moment, until Erik pulled away with pleading eyes.

"Are you sure?" he breathed. She nodded, clutching his neck to bring his mouth back to hers with urgency.

He responded with more enthusiasm now, tasting the inside of her mouth with his tongue and pulling her closer, his hands splayed and clawing slightly against her back. He felt her shiver, and his breath grew rapid.

Breaking their heated kiss, Christine pleaded, "Touch me?" She guided one of his hands to her breast, and he gently grabbed at the sensitive skin. It felt…amazing, and she gasped, kissing him again. With shaky hands, she unbuttoned Erik's silky shirt, pushing it off his broad shoulders. Exploring with her fingers and lips, she admired the hardness of his torso, his arms going limp at his sides. It was as if a great artist had carved his body from stone, and she tasted his smooth skin with a gentle swipe of tongue.

He could not move for a moment, could barely focus on anything except where her hands and lips touched him. When he felt the warm wetness of her tongue on the center of his chest, he ached with intense lust, and he had to refrain from grabbing her and throwing her down so he could take her, fast. No, that would not do. The angel deserved better than that.

Instead, he grasped her chin and guided her face back up to his, tasting her perfect pink lips again. He brought his free hand back to her breast, and the needy sound she emitted into his mouth sent his arousal throbbing.

Christine was soon focused on only the sensation of him grabbing at her chest, the exquisite feeling sending a pool of heat low in her abdomen. She could feel her nipple hardening, and it seemed Erik felt as well, as he pinched it between thumb and forefinger, testing, and then pulling slightly. She had to break their kiss to gasp for breath, her head tossing back.

Hmm, enjoyed that, did she? He trailed his wet lips along her jaw, down to her neck, the scent and taste of her skin intoxicating him. She hesitantly took both of his hands and guided them to the bottom of her nightgown, as if silently instructing him to remove it. His hands shook as he lifted the thin fabric from her, leaving her in only her drawers, as her chemise had been removed with the nightgown. Gazing in wonder at her glorious, naked chest, he nearly burst into tears at the perfection. How could he believe that this perfect woman was actually his? Her smooth, porcelain skin glowed in the low light of the fire, and he could only stare for a long time.

Christine's cheeks burned red as his eyes raked over her, his arousal evident against his silk pants. She tried not to stare at it. She had never been more exposed to anyone, but she felt no shame, no fear, for Erik only looked on her with love, awe, and desire as profound as hers.

"Christine," he whispered, dazed. "Should we…go upstairs, to your bedroom?"

The huge bed did seem a bit more practical for…what they were about to do. Slowly, Christine nodded, and at once he stood and swept her into his arms. Cradling her close, he strode from the music room and up the stairs, her lips brushing against his neck the entire way. They entered the dark bedroom, lit only by the sparse remainder of the fire, and Erik set Christine down on her feet at the foot of the bed.

Before she could lose her courage, Christine tugged on the fastening of her drawers, undoing the tie and slipping them off. She was completely bare now, and Erik stared down at her with awed, hungry eyes and parted lips. "Perfection," he murmured, his voice low and husky and making somewhere between her legs ache.

"Your turn," she breathed, waiting.

He had to remind himself that he was with the woman he loved, and that she miraculously loved him in return; otherwise he could never find the courage to do as she asked. Erik mimicked what she had done. He tried very hard not to panic when he too was naked, focusing instead on Christine's bareness before him. Her fair skin glowing in the limited light, the swell of her full breasts on her chest, pink nipples erect, the curve of her hips, the V between her thighs protected by a dark patch of curls—god, what secrets she did she hide there? The length of her legs…that were suddenly walking toward him.

Standing on her toes, she pressed her body to his, seeking his lips with her own. He was hot and smooth against her, his arousal hard at her hip, and she shivered. His hands tangled in her hair and their kiss deepened, turned almost violent with its urgency. She reached down and touched him with unsure, hesitant fingers, and he was hard as stone, yet somehow silky to the touch. His sharp intake of breath did not go unnoticed, and she wrapped her hand around him more firmly, testing. He groaned against her lips, the sound making her feel powerful and heady, and she stroked him more boldly.

Erik had never been touched like this by anyone save for himself, let alone the angel that he loved desperately. Her touch was hesitant and inexperienced, and the most wonderful thing he had ever felt in his life. Unable to control himself, he dissolved into pleasure fast, spending himself and breaking their kiss to pant like some animal. Christine did not seem to mind, however, as she only moved her lips to his perspiring neck.

He had found his first release, Christine knew. If she had not been so in need herself, she would have felt smug and satisfied, but she only burned for him hotter now. She kissed his neck as he recovered, and she gasped when he unexpectedly lifted her onto the bed. He gently pushed her back until she lied down, leaning over her to kiss her mouth with fervor and, something else. Gratitude? Ah, but his mouth was on her neck now, licking and sucking and kissing, and her body quivered. She snaked her fingers into his thin, sparse hair that was surprisingly soft, sighing as his mouth went lower.

Wanting to please her like she had done him, Erik remembered how she had responded quite enthusiastically to his attention on her breast, and he grasped one in his hand, massaging the fleshy mound. Ever slowly, he kissed his way to the other, first licking around the hard, pink bud and then taking it fully into his mouth. "Erik," she cooed, tightening her grip in his hair and squirming underneath him. The sound of her voice, high pitched and filled with need, was enough to harden him fully again. Humming, he swirled his tongue around her peak, sucking gently and hearing her wordless approval.

God, oh _god,_ this sensation. It was unlike anything Christine could have imagined, her dreams being put to shame by the hunger that stirred inside her now. He removed his mouth with a wet popping sound, his hand on the other breast being replaced by its hot wetness. As he sucked and licked and tortured sweetly, she squirmed, needing _something_ to be met with the heat between her legs. "Please," she begged, shaking. "Erik, please touch me."

He felt her legs spread beneath him, and that was all the encouragement he needed to trail a hesitant, caressing hand down her belly, venturing lower to her warm, secret place. Gently, ever gently, he felt her velvet softness, the skin slippery wet and meeting his hand with eagerness. _So soft, so lovely,_ he wanted to tell her, but his mouth was much too busy. He fondled her with utmost hesitance, not having the faintest idea on how to navigate such a place to bring her pleasure. It seemed just making contact caused a response from her though, the angel's breath coming out in quicker gasps.

Pressing a little harder to her tender skin, he massaged her. He dared to let one finger slip between the precious folds of skin, coating it in her arousal, and she moaned oh so sweetly when he brought the slick finger upward, to the point just beneath the hair there. He focused on that spot, gently swirling his finger around it, imitating the way his tongue still swirled around her nipple, and her cries grew in volume and intensity.

" _Oh_ …Erik, that is…oh, p-please do not s-stop doing that," she mewled, her back arching, overwhelmed with sensation. Something was building deep inside, scorching her, his mouth on her breast combined with his finger on her most sensitive spot causing her to let out a strange, foreign keen. Still, he persisted, sucking harder and massaging her more firmly, until finally it was all too much. She saw stars, her body exploding in intense ripples of pleasure, her limbs shaking and jerking, and then relaxing altogether.

Erik moved above her, positioning himself between her legs. She was still lost in her pleasure, panting, sweat dewing at her temples, and he smoothed the matted curls out of her face. Her dark eyes opened and met his, and his stomach twisted. Had she any idea how much he loved her, so much it physically hurt? Leaning down, he kissed her dazed, swollen lips, groaning softly. He was so undeserving of such perfection, and yet that would not stop him from having her, selfish as he was. Plus, he could not deny her even if he tried. He would give her anything she asked, do anything.

"You will tell me if you feel any pain," he demanded between kisses.

Christine nodded lazily; unable to imagine feeling anything besides the utter bliss spell she was still under. Even in the dark she could see how his brilliant eyes burned into hers, and her lips turned up in a wanton, encouraging smile. A lustful rumbling sounded from his chest, and then, he was slipping inside of her, those ocean eyes squeezing shut. She winced, this brand new sensation of being utterly filled strange and uncomfortable. He moved awkwardly and let out a choking gasp, and she bit back the whimper of pain that wanted to escape her lips.

"Chris…tine," Erik rasped, her tight warmth around him threatening his control, the feeling surpassing anything he could have ever imagined. Eyes opening, they found hers, squinting in unmistakable discomfort. He froze, staring, and then kissed her face in apology.

He had stopped moving inside of her, giving her time to adjust, and she returned his kisses thankfully. Testing, she rocked her hips, pleased when it felt somewhat good, not so painful anymore. Reaching down, she grasped his hip, encouraging him to move again, and he did. And it felt…very interesting. Not bad, at all.

When her soft, gentle hands cupped his bare face, he trembled. He had completely forgotten how exposed he was, and it suddenly terrified him. Like the coward he was, he grabbed her wrists and held them down against the bed, burying his ruined face in the crook of her neck. "Erik, please," she cried, her voice breathy and oh so sweet. "I love you. Come back to me."

Groaning in agony, he obeyed, unable to resist her. He met her eyes again, finding only acceptance and love and desire, and unwelcome tears filled his, blurring the beautiful, unbelievable sight. It was all too much for him to bear, and he spilled his seed inside of her, a tortured sob escaping him as he collapsed, hiding his face once again.

He was crying, and Christine held him close, murmuring that it was okay, that she loved him so very much, and rubbed soothing hands down his shuddering back. It was a very long time before he relaxed, but she did not complain, pressing her swollen lips against his shoulder and every other inch of skin she could reach.

"Are you hurt?" he eventually asked in a hoarse whisper.

Scanning her body, she could tell that she would be sore in the morning. Her thighs hurt from being spread for so long, and of course she ached a bit between them, but it was not at all unbearable. "I am quite fine," she breathed, though it felt like an understatement. "Are _you_ all right, Erik?"

"Thank you," was his choked response. "Thank you, Angel. I love you."

"Oh, Erik. I love you, too."

She gently coaxed him off of her and to lie down under the thick bedding, and he clung to her desperately as she draped an arm over his stomach, resting her head on his chest. The last thing on her mind before she fell asleep was just how perfectly they had fit together.


	18. Chapter 18

**As always, thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favorited, etc. There's nothing I love more than reading what y'all think. :)**

 **Another M rated chapter here. Please review!**

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Chapter 18

A deep, dreamless sleep consumed Christine so heavily that Adele would have thought her dead if she had not been breathing.

The housekeeper had knocked several times with no answer, and it concerned her to the point where she entered the room anyway. She found Christine lying on her front, her bare back exposed where the comforter ended at her hips. Adele smiled at the sight, thinking she knew the reason why the girl had gone to bed naked. The woman hoped that meant she was out of the strange state she had been in over the last week.

Adele poked the girl's shoulder gently, and she began to stir. "Christine, wake up," she urged sweetly. "It is a new day, dear."

Christine roused awake, stretched, and moaned sleepily. "Oh, it is a new life, Adele." Her face lit up with the memories of the previous night, a dreamy smile playing on her lips. She rolled onto her back, stretching, and Adele laughed and turned her head.

"Goodness, child," she exclaimed. "I suppose this means that you had an eventful night?"

Only then did Christine realize that she was still naked. She blushed a deep pink and grabbed the bedding to wrap around her torso. Pushing the embarrassment away, she gushed to the woman. "It was a very eventful night indeed! And you may not call me child anymore, for I am a woman now." She grinned saucily, and Adele appraised her, nodding.

"Whatever you say, Madame," Adele teased, curtsying, and Christine laughed. It warmed the woman's heart to see her so happy, the complete opposite of how she had been just the day before. She smiled at the girl warmly before turning to open the closet.

Christine jumped out of bed to throw on her dressing robe, and she instantly noticed the soreness of her lower body. "Oh," she groaned, wincing.

Adele noticed and nodded, understanding immediately. "I suppose you would be sore, then. I know just what you need. Why don't you relax for a moment while I run you a warm bath?"

Christine secured her robe and carefully lied back down on the bed. "That sounds wonderful," she sighed, smiling gratefully. "Thank you." Adele left with a nod.

The grey, late morning light was bright coming in through the windows, and Christine stared outside, mind flooding with sweet memories of her night with Erik. His bare face, the way she had kissed it and confessed her love, and his heartbreaking reaction. She thought of the kisses they had shared, the soft, sweet ones, and the hungry, urgent ones. Touching her lips, she smiled softly at their swollen feel, just an assurance that their magical night had actually happened. After weeks of dreaming, to have experienced the real thing was almost hard to grasp.

She thought of Erik's hands, how they were so gentle, seeking out ways to give her pleasure. His strong, hard body, like a Greek God's would be…she bit her lip. The sounds he had made, the adoration in his eyes, his tears at the end…had there ever been a night more perfect than theirs? Of course, she had not expected it to be bad, but she also had not expected it to be so very wonderful. Though there was awkwardness at some parts, each of their inexperience obvious, it had still turned out so much better than she could have imagined.

Adele entered the room again, jumping her out of her thoughts. Christine took a long soak in her rose oil infused bath, allowing her aching, sore muscles to be soothed by the hot water. She gave her wild curls a quick wash, and then gently washed her body, being especially careful when it came to her tender, lower area.

After towel drying, Christine took advantage of all the scented creams and lotions left for her, slathering some onto her skin and rubbing them in until she felt silky smooth all over. The massaging felt nice, and definitely helped to soothe her aches, which she had hoped for. When she stared into the mirror in her bedroom, fully dressed like any other day, she still noticed a difference in the way she looked. Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, posture a little more relaxed…it was like she was a whole new woman.

She scarfed down her breakfast, famished and eager to see Erik again. So many possibilities for their day after last night! Her stomach fluttered, barely able to keep the smile off of her face as she dashed to the music room after Adele left for the day.

When she burst through the door, however, she froze at what she saw. Madame Giry was there with Erik. They were sitting across from each other on the chaise, seemingly deep in conversation, until they noticed her presence and stopped muttering, staring at her.

Her smile fell, sensing the tense environment. Erik's jaw taught, his eyes ablaze with anger, Madame Giry's worried and slightly annoyed expression. Christine walked forward slowly, cautiously, and they both stood when she was close.

"Madame," Christine greeted her quietly. "What a nice surprise." The women embraced briefly, and Erik began pacing slowly in front of the fireplace. Her curiosity was flaring, her gaze flickering back and forth from the two of them. "Is something wrong?"

"I am…afraid so," Madame Giry sighed reluctantly. "I came to warn the both of you-" She paused, looking to Erik as if asking for permission to continue. He nodded impatiently.

"Raoul de Chagny has gotten out of control," she said in a rush. "He has not rested in the search for you two. He has come to me many times, each time drunker than the last, demanding for me to tell him where you are. He even threatened me the last time, though he was so drunk I easily got him to leave. He is not the same Vicomte anymore, it is as if he has gone mad." Christine shook her head, eyes flooding with moisture, willing it all to be a lie. Madame Giry went on. "I hate to admit it, but…it is starting to frighten me. He is a powerful man; able to hire people who can do anything he wants them to do, which he has made clear to me several times. I am unsure of what to do at this point."

Erik chuckled suddenly, the sound menacing and containing no humor. "Let him come," he scoffed. "I will kill that fool before he even knows what happened to him."

Madame Giry's jaw clenched. "I doubt your _wife_ would be all right with that, Monsieur," she warned, her tone biting and disapproving.

They both looked to Christine, and her eyes were wide with fright, her head still shaking slightly. "No," she choked. "No, I would most certainly not be all right with that."

Erik huffed, the sound almost like a growl.

"I do not understand," Christine murmured sadly. "I never thought Raoul capable of such things. I thought my letter would have solved everything…"

"It is…actually what started this madness, I'm afraid," Madame Giry confessed hesitantly, not wanting to sound accusing. "He never came to me drunk before I delivered the letter. The very next day was the first time."

A single tear fell down Christine's cheek. "It is all my fault," she said thickly. "I should have just left it alone. I am always hurting everyone."

Madame Giry took her hand and squeezed it gently in reassurance. "You were only doing what you thought was right."

"What should we do? He cannot keep this up forever…can he?"

Erik spoke suddenly, his voice less mocking than before. "For you, my dear, I've no doubt that he would." He leaned against the wall, deep in thought.

"I can only think of one option," Madame Giry said. "Christine will have to speak with him face to face. Convince him that she is happy where she is, and that she does not love him anymore, since the letter did not do the trick."

Erik glared at the woman. Christine stared at her too, her eyes wide, startled, worried for her husband's temper.

"Out of the question," he said flatly, beginning to pace again.

"We could have the meeting at my home," Madame Giry said to Christine, as if Erik had not spoken. "He will have to come completely alone, or else we will not allow him to see you. I have cousins that would make excellent guards, very strong, and dangerous if they need to be." Christine considered it, thinking it was not the worst solution she could think of. Better than anyone getting killed, of course.

Before she could voice her opinion, Erik stopped his pacing to bellow at Madame Giry. "Did you not hear what I said? _No_!"

Christine winced and put herself between where they stood. "Erik," she scolded softly, placing a hand on his arm. She spun to face Madame Giry. "I…I will do it. It is the only way."

Madame Giry nodded once, and Erik spluttered with rage. "No. You. Will. NOT."

The woman ignored him. "I will return tomorrow to discuss the plan further. I must pay a visit to my cousins, it seems. I will…leave you two to talk." She flashed a warm smile to Christine, a glare toward Erik, and strode from the room.

When the two of them were alone, Christine took a deep breath and turned to face him. He was still visibly angry, and he stared at her with wide eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it.

"I will not allow it, Christine," he growled, shaking his head.

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes you will, Erik," she retorted, crossing her arms. "We cannot let Raoul keep harassing Madame Giry. I know that I can convince him to let it go. I can do this." She stepped closer to him, stroked the unmasked side of his face, and he sighed. His eyes shut for a moment, relaxing, his anger beginning to fade, but when he opened them again, they were sad, with an unmistakable hint of fear. "What are you afraid of, my love?" she whispered.

Erik lightly trailed a hand down her arm. He could not meet her eyes, his voice low and vulnerable. "Isn't it obvious? What if the boy steals you away again? What if you decide you want to be with _him_? I…I cannot lose you, Christine. Especially not now."

She was already shaking her head before he was done speaking. She pulled his face down to hers, kissing him deeply, then breaking away to gaze into his eyes. "I love _you_ , Erik," she assured him, knowing he would not be able to deny the sincerity in her brown eyes. "I cannot live without you now, either." She kissed him again, lowering her voice, attempting to sound seductive. "No one could ever kiss me like you do." She felt his hands grasp her waist, and she brushed her lips against his smooth jaw. "No one could ever touch me like you do." She met his mouth with more enthusiasm, pressing her body against his. "No one could ever _love_ me like you do."

He groaned against her lips and pulled her closer, kissing her more roughly now, losing himself. But when her fingertips touched his mask, he broke away, ensnaring her wrist.

His eyes blazed into hers, both of them gasping. "Erik," she rasped. "You do not have to hide from me anymore. I love all of you. I want to see you." With a pained expression and a clenched jaw, he released her wrist, granting her permission to do as she pleased. She removed his mask, followed by his fake hair, and smiled. "My Erik," she whispered, bringing their lips back together.

It all happened very fast after that.

Erik had shoved off his jacket and waistcoat as Christine fumbled with the fastenings of his trousers; all without breaking their heated, needy kiss. Before she knew it, she was grasping him in her hand, loving the sounds he made into her mouth as she stroked him boldly, intimately. Gathering her skirts, Erik had somehow blindly found the tie of her drawers with one hand and loosened it, and the garment fell to the floor at her feet. He pulled her with him to the chaise lounge, sitting and pulling her onto his lap. She straddled him, her knees on either side of his waist, her skirts bunched up around them.

Both of them were very much ready, and she slid onto him with ease, strong hands guiding her hips, earning a gasp from them both. Feeling no pain, she set a quick, eager pace, staring into those smoldering, ocean eyes, and snaking her fingers into his hair.

Erik yanked the neckline of her bodice down, freeing her pert breasts for him to grab and lick and suck as he pleased. Her scent, her taste, her delicious sounds, the feel of her, riding him as he was inside of her… _god,_ it was all so intoxicating. He could focus on nothing but _her,_ and he clutched her hips, encouraging her rapid movement. There was no way he would last in these conditions. Groaning, he took as much of her breast in his mouth as he could, sucking greedily, and he felt her tighten and shudder around him.

They came apart together, shouting each other's names, and then they both went limp.

"So, it is settled," she said once their breathing returned to normal, pecking his glistening lips. "I will do what I need to do to get Raoul off our backs, and you will have to trust me."

Erik groaned in defeat, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. "Fine…only if you swear that you will come back to me."

Christine stroked his hair, her voice sweet as she vowed, "I, Christine Destler, swear on my father's grave that I will return to my husband, Erik Destler, whom I love dearly." Her cheeks heated for what she was about to say. "Besides, I…that was only the second time, and I am already convinced that if I am without your lovemaking for a single day, I will surely die."

She heard his low chuckle, felt his warm breath on her neck, followed by a press of his lips there. "My dear, I am afraid _I_ am the one who would perish without yours. You are not as weak as I am." His husky voice sent shivers down her spine, and she squirmed, feeling how they were still connected.

"Mm," she hummed. "You underestimate yourself, my love."

He finally lifted his face to kiss her, softly, and then they simply held each other close for a very long time.


	19. Chapter 19

**Thank you all so, so much for reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please review. :)**

* * *

Chapter 19

Eventually, they found the strength to get up and replace their discarded garments. Although Erik did not seem angry anymore, his face was still etched with worry, and Christine suggested that they sing together, hoping to cheer him up.

Erik agreed, of course, wanting to please her, though he knew he would have trouble focusing on the music with everything on his mind.

He was wrong. As soon as her voice filled the room, all of the worry was forgotten, and nothing else mattered except _her_. If he had never made love with her, Erik would swear that there was nothing better in the universe than hearing his Christine's voice sing only for him. When he allowed his voice to join hers, he felt nothing but pure and utter bliss.

Afterwards, they took an afternoon stroll through the garden underneath the cloudy, grey sky. The air was colder than it had been, but it felt nice to get some fresh air, and Erik seemed more relaxed. Christine tried to keep her expression normal as they walked, tried not to wince, for her soreness was even more prominent now. Perhaps she should have taken it easy with Erik earlier…but she could not come to regret it.

They lounged on the sofa together after supper, Christine's head resting on Erik's chest, with his hands running up and down her back. After the draining day they had had, she could have easily fallen asleep like this, though it was still early evening. She listened to the sound of his heartbeat, a small smile playing upon her lips. How she loved this man. She never imagined that they would come this far, and she was so, so glad that they had.

"Erik?" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

His heart squeezed, flooding with warmth at her serene admission. How on Earth could he believe her? Ah, it was wonderful to hear, nonetheless.

Peeking up at his unmasked face, she was pleased with what she found. Eyes filled with so much love, his lips upturned in the smallest of smiles.

"I love you, my Christine," he replied, his voice velvety smooth and low.

She smiled; leaning up to brush her lips against his, and laid her head back on his chest, nuzzling. He hummed softly, continuing to run his hands along her back, the motion so soothing that she quickly drifted to sleep.

When the sky was black, Erik carried the sleeping girl up to the bedroom and gently laid her on the bed. Hmm…she would not want to go to bed fully dressed, would she?

"Christine," he murmured softly, nudging her shoulder. "Do you want to change?"

It took a few tries, but she eventually stirred, and blinked at him in confusion. "What?"

He tried not to laugh. "Do you want to sleep fully dressed? That cannot be comfortable, my dear."

"Oh," she sleepily moaned. "Right. Help me?" Turning onto her front, her eyes slid closed again, her breath evening.

He merely stood there for a moment, and then he swallowed, reaching over to unbutton her dress slowly. Breath hitching, his fingers trembled as he undressed her, moving her gently so that he could remove each article of clothing without waking her. When she was down to just her chemise and stockings, he paused. Did women sleep in their stockings…? She had not worn them last night.

Hesitantly, he trailed his shaking hands up one leg, looking for the garment's beginning. When he found it, he slowly pulled it down, his mouth going dry at the silky feel of the fabric, at the pale bareness of her leg and foot when they were freed. He repeated the process on the other side, lingering a bit longer, savoring the feel and sight of her. God…he wished to have her again so soon, but she was already deeply asleep. Of course he would not disturb her.

After stripping down to his trousers and loose shirt, he slipped into bed next to her, pulling her close. She sighed contentedly in her sleep, leaning into him as if she sensed his presence. It was all…just too good to be true. Still, he greedily clung to her, imagining that he somehow deserved her, and it took a very long time before he could even stand to sleep.

* * *

True to her word, Madame Giry returned the next afternoon to discuss the plan. The three of them sat at the dining table, drinking tea and eating sandwiches that Christine and Adele had prepared together that morning.

"I spoke with my cousins," Madame finally broached after a long, tense silence. "They have agreed to help us. They seem very excited for potential violence; said I did not even have to pay them for their help." She scoffed, sipping her tea.

Christine gulped, her stomach twisting. "P-potential violence?"

"Only if it needs to be done," Madame Giry assured. "They will not harm him unless they have to."

Erik grunted, and Christine placed a hand atop his on the table. "I should go," he grumbled. "I should be there. If he laid one finger on her, he would be dead in a second." She shuddered at the malice in his voice.

Madame Giry gave him a disapproving look. "You know that is not an option. We cannot risk anyone seeing you, especially not the Vicomte."

"She is right, Erik. I would feel much better if I knew you were home safe." His eyes narrowed, but after a moment he nodded once, not at all happy with it. Christine turned to Madame Giry. "When?"

"Tonight, the sooner the better. My cousins will be there later by the time we arrive. I sent a note to the Vicomte to come to my house alone at seven. I did not tell him why, but I am sure he will come if he thinks it pertains to you. We will make sure he is completely alone before we allow him to see you."

Christine nodded, but her stomach twisted. Nervousness was creeping in and, at first, she did not know why. Raoul surely would not do anything to hurt her…would he? But…she would have a very difficult conversation with him, which was not going to be a pleasant experience for either of them at all. She chewed on her lip.

"Do not worry, Christine," Madame Giry assured her, seeing her worry. "My cousins are very strong; he would stand no chance against them."

Erik gave Christine's hand a gentle squeeze, and she looked to his masked face. He did not look happy, or sure, but his eyes held all of the trust and safety that she needed. She smiled at him, and nodded once again. "I am ready."

Madame Giry clasped her hands together. "Very well. I will get my carriage ready."

Taking a deep breath, Christine stood and headed upstairs to retrieve her cape, and Erik followed. He must have wanted a moment alone with her before she left. She stood in front of the mirror; securing the cloak Erik had borrowed her the night he first brought her here. Grabbing a fistful of the fabric, she put it to her nose, inhaling his wonderful scent, comforted by it. She felt him behind her, felt the whisper of his fingers at her hair.

Erik broke the silence, his voice gruff, "You have not even gone yet, and I miss you."

She turned, wrapped her arms around his neck, gazing into the depths of his ocean eyes. "Me too, I am afraid," she said with a smile, but it fell when she saw that his expression was solemn. "What is the matter, Erik?"

He wrapped his own arms around her waist. "My wife is meeting her old lover and I will be sitting here alone, going mad and not knowing what is happening."

"Oh, Erik. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course, Christine," he quickly said, and then his face twisted in disgust. "It is the _boy_ I do not trust. God knows how he will behave after having lost you to someone as grotesque as _me_."

"Stop it! You are not grotesque, Erik! And Raoul will be fine. He only needs to hear everything from me, face to face. I am sure of it."

A long pause. "You are positive he will not touch you?"

Christine nodded fast. "I will be back with you tonight. I am sure of it."

He crushed her to him in a tight embrace, his breathing heavy. "You better," he warned, voice gravely. "I love you."

"And I love you," she murmured, pressing herself closer.

His mouth was on hers suddenly, kissing her hard, and then all too soon, it was over. "We should not keep Madame Giry waiting," he said breathlessly. She nodded, and they walked downstairs and out the front door hand in hand.

Madame Giry sat waiting in the small carriage, and Erik helped Christine onto the seat next to hers. He squeezed her hand, nodded to Madame without a word, and then turned and strode into the house. Christine looked after him wistfully, wishing she could go after him and give him more reassurance that she would come back, but they were already on their way.

She was starlted at the sudden sadness she felt, at the tears that welled in her eyes as the carriage rolled down the road. Of course, it did not go unnoticed. "It is going to be alright, Christine," the woman said softly.

Christine quickly wiped at her tears, embarrassed that she had been caught. "I know," she assured, smiling sheepishly. "I am…going to miss him is all. We have not been parted since he first brought me to the house. Oh…so much has changed since then."

Madame Giry nodded slowly. "It has," she agreed.

They did not speak much for a while, what with the carriage jostling against the bumpy road. Madame Giry's horses kept a quick, steady pace, and after a while Christine began to notice the familiar Paris streets around them. She thought she might have felt a sense of homecoming, but instead she felt quite the opposite. Erik was her home now, and he was not here with her. God, she already longed for him again!

She caught a glimpse of a little blonde girl walking down the street with her mother, with ribbons in her hair, and she immediately thought of her best friend. "Is Meg going to be home?" she asked hopefully.

Madame Giry sighed. "I am afraid not. She has been working non stop at a local restaurant, what with the Populaire being destroyed." Her voice grew comical. "I believe she fancies the owner. She is trying to gain his attention by working so hard."

Christine giggled. That sounded just like something Meg would do. "Oh, I miss her dearly. You will have to bring her with you to visit sometime."

Madame Giry smiled warmly at the girl. "Of course. Soon, I promise."

They reached Madame's house just as the sun began to set. Christine recognized the quaint stone house well, and was stunned when she saw the two very tall, very muscled men standing outside the front door. Even Erik had nothing on their brawn. They had to be twins: for Christine could see no difference between them.

The two women exited the carriage and walked toward them.

"About time," one of them complained in a deep bass voice.

"We have been waiting for almost an hour, woman," the other said, but with a teasing smile.

Madame Giry smiled at the men in greeting. "Oh hush you two. I know you are both glad to have this opportunity." They nodded, laughing. Madame Giry gestured to Christine. "This is Christine Destler. Christine, these are my cousins Louis and Francis." They muttered how-do-you-do's, and then headed inside the small house.

They immediately began discussing the plan. "What time will he come?" the man that Madame Giry had pointed out to be Francis asked.

"Should not be long now, perhaps a half hour," she answered as she tended a fire in the tiny sitting room. "Maybe less, as I assume he will be eager to know what is going on."

Louis asked curiously, "What exactly _is_ going on?"

Madame Giry turned to him, a look of caution in her eyes, "The less you know, the better. All you need to know is if he tries to harm her," she pointed to Christine, "You must take action immediately. He is an unstable man. We are not sure how he will act."

The men nodded, looking a little dismayed that they would not get any further details than that.

Madame Giry went on. "We will have Christine wait in my bedroom, and we will be in here to let them talk alone." She turned to Christine. "If he tries anything, all you need to do is shout and he will be taken care of."

Christine nodded, almost positive that she will have no need to. Surely Raoul would honor her decision.

They sat in the sitting room, going over the plan again and again until the sound of a horse approaching made them each alert. Madame Giry jumped up and grabbed Christine's hand. "That must be him." She led Christine down the small hall and through her bedroom door. "Wait in here." And then she left, leaving Christine alone and shutting the door being her.

Christine's heart raced, feeling sick out of nowhere. Why was she suddenly so nervous to face Raoul? She took deep breaths, studying the room to distract herself, trying to ignore the voices from the other room. The bedroom was small and square. Madame Giry's bed was in the near corner, and a large window covered most of the back wall. A vanity was on the opposite wall of the bed, and Christine checked her appearance in the mirror. She looked worried and wary, and she took another deep breath, wringing her hands together.

She recognized Raoul's distressed voice from the other room, unable to pick out specific words through the thick door. She pressed her ear against it in hopes to listen to what they were saying, but instead heard loud footsteps stomping her way. Gasping, she quickly jumped back, her heart pounding. She stood on the other side of the room, her back against the window, as the door opened.

Raoul stood in the doorway, frozen when he saw her. She could not help but feel guilty when she noticed his appearance. He was visibly thinner, with deep circles underneath his bloodshot eyes, as if he had been suffering from sleepless nights for a while now. His hair had been cut short, and the new style seemed to age him quite a few years. His expression was wild, full of pain and shock.

He was a complete stranger to the Raoul she had known.

"Christine!" he cried in relief, as he shut the bedroom door behind him.


	20. Chapter 20

**This chapter changed a bit from the original as well, so I hope no one minds that. Every time I would go back and read this chapter I would cringe so hard, haha. Hopefully this is a bit more realistic/in character. Also, just a warning, Raoul will not be portrayed in the best light. We all know how hard losing Christine would be...**

 **That's all I'm gonna say. Please read and review. ;)**

* * *

Chapter 20

She was unsure of what to do as Raoul ran to her and embraced her, shaking, breathing heavily as he held her around the shoulders. For some strange reason, she felt extremely uncomfortable, and she did not know why. This was _Raoul_ , her childhood friend and comforter. Why would she feel…unfamiliar with him now? As if he was an entirely different person? Or…

Perhaps she was the one who had changed.

Hesitantly, she put her hands on his lower back, barely returning his embrace and feeling awkward in doing so. "H-hello, Raoul," she said.

He pulled back a bit, keeping his hands on her shoulders and looking at her with wild grey eyes. "My god, Christine! How are you?" His words were rushed, frantic. "Are you okay? Has he hurt you?"

His twitchiness made her nervous, and she shook her head, her eyebrows pulling together. "I am well. And…of course not."

Raoul seemed to hear the defensive tone she held, and he stumbled a step back, staring at her with pained, accusing eyes.

Christine hesitated, inhaling, but then it came rushing out, much shakier than she would have liked. "Raoul, you need to stop your searching, and stop harassing Madame Giry." There. She had laid it out for him, plain and simple. Her pulse quickened as she awaited his response.

Raoul did not say anything, just stood a little taller and pressed his lips together in a hard line. She avoided his eyes, her tone a bit softer when she said, "I thought I had been clear in my letter…that I wanted you to move on, but I suppose you thought I was…forced to write it." Pausing, she finally met his gaze, hating the accusation she found there. "But I was not forced, Raoul. Actually, Erik knew nothing about it-"

He interrupted her by scoffing bitterly. "He has a name, does he? I did not know a _creature_ such as he could even have a name."

Christine stared, having never heard him sound so cruel, not once. "Raoul," she eventually gasped. "He is not a…he is my husband!"

Raoul shook his head in frustration. "And why is that, Christine? Because he _forced_ you to marry him. He gave you no choice in the matter."

"But he did give me a choice," she reminded him softly. "And I chose what I could live with. You would have died if I had not chosen him that night, Raoul. He was going to kill you." He had no response for that, and she looked down at the floor, hesitantly continuing. "It started off as just that: me wanting to keep you alive, knowing that he and I already had some sort of…connection. But things changed so fast. I grew…quite fond of him."

Raoul gave a pained sigh, his eyes closing in denial. "Christine…"

"I hate hurting you, Raoul," she said thickly. "But it is the truth. _Everything_ I wrote in that letter was the truth. I need you to accept that, and…move on."

"How can you say that?" he spluttered angrily, his face bright red. He had never spoken to her like this, and she regarded him warily, her face paling. "We were supposed to have a life together. We _promised_ that we would spend forever with one another, Christine! _You promised me!_ How can you just throw me away for that hideous-"

"Do _not_ ," she interrupted icily, stopping him cold. "Do not talk about my husband that way." He was obviously startled, and his eyes held so much pain that she immediately regretted her defensive impulse to scold him. "I am sorry," she whispered eyes filling with tears. "I know I broke promises, and I am…so sorry. But…he was going to let me go, Raoul! After we had already married, he said he would not stop me if I wanted to leave!"

Staring at her with crazed eyes, she could see how his breath quickened. "So why the hell did you not return to me?" he shouted, approaching her.

She flinched back. "I-I chose him, Raoul," she whimpered, afraid. "I am s-sorry, but I chose _him._ Again. The right way, this time."

There was a long, tense moment of silence between them, Raoul breathing heavily, Christine watching him anxiously. She could see he understood now, that she had fallen in love with the man who had almost killed him, and she prayed he would not make her say it aloud. He was already hurt enough. They both were.

Raoul's anger seemingly faded, his demeanor turning desperate before her eyes, and he reached for her hands. "Leave with me, Christine," he pleaded, his voice filled with anguished hope. "I can make you happy. I know I do not have…the same musical talent that he has, and I know that is important to you. But you belong with me." She shook her head and tried to remove her hands from his, but he just clutched them tighter. "I can give you a life he could never give to you. Parties, traveling, children, anything you want! You could even return to the stage if you wanted to; I will not stop you, I swear it!"

His pleading seemed innocent enough, but still, Christine was frightened, hear heart pounding against her chest. Something about him screamed _unstable_. Perhaps it was his tight grip on her hands, or his once clear eyes now wild and seeming to pierce her now.

She shook her head fast, struggling in his grip. "I do not care for all of that, Raoul. I sing for _him_ only, I always have!"

That stung him, she could see it on his face, and then she saw the dark look that came after. His grip on her hands got even tighter, to the point of pain, and she whimpered. He raised her left hand to eye level.

"Need I remind you that this ring on your finger is _mine?_ You belong with me," he said through his teeth, his voice curt and cold, like a complete stranger's. The way he said it sounded more like he meant you belong _to_ me. "You are leaving with me tonight, Christine."

She could tell he was trying very hard not to snap. Fear curled in her belly, knowing now that the old Raoul, her friend and comforter and lover, was long gone. Her heart gave a painful squeeze at the realization.

"Let go," she breathed.

He looked down at his grip, as if just now realizing he was hurting her, and released her hands, though not moving from where he stood close and imposing. She knew what she had to say, and her fists clenched at her sides.

"I do not love you anymore," she each word slow and clear, a tear falling down her cheek. "I love _him_."

Raoul's hand came up and grasped her chin hard, and Christine gasped and struggled, clawing at him. He was much too strong for her to get free, his face so furious and nearly unrecognizable. "You will _never_ say that again," he spat, this new anger terrifying. She sobbed as she fought to get free. "You are mine. I will have you admitted to the insane asylum if you speak nonsense like that again!"

"You are the one who is mad!" she cried, pushing him hard enough that his grip finally slipped. He made no further advance, and she rubbed her sore chin, hardly able to believe that he had actually caused her pain. He stood, fists clenched at his side, jaw taut, close to the edge, and yet she could not stop her next words from pouring out with her anger and hurt. "I do not even know who you are anymore, Raoul! Erik is more of a man than you! He is stronger than you. He would kill you without hesitation if he knew you even laid a hand on me! He would _never_ hurt me like you. He has more talent, more love, and more _passion_ than you could ever have!"

Raoul's eyebrows scrunched together when she said the word "passion" and she did not miss that.

"Yes, Raoul. You heard me correctly. Erik has more passion than you could even imagine!" In the back of her mind, she knew how childish and unladylike she was acting. Worse, she knew the danger she was putting herself in by taunting him, but she just could not stop, too upset to think straight. "I have experienced his passion firsthand, you know. I am his _wife_ after all."

She regretted the words as soon as they were out, and she tensed, expected another physical grab from him. But he did not move, only stared, his insane rage now accompanied with disbelief.

"No," he whispered, his head shaking slowly. "No…you are only saying that to anger me."

She swallowed, very nearly agreeing with him, only to appease him and keep herself safer. But, stubborn as she was, she could not give in when he was being so awful, and her chin rose in defiance. "I am not. It is the truth."

Raoul lunged forward, grabbing her arms, fuming with pained anger and determination, and his lips clumsily met hers. He kissed her mouth hard, desperate, and she struggled as he pushed her, stumbling backward. He only followed, not allowing his lips to leave hers. The backs of her legs hit the bed, and he pushed her down, pressing himself atop her. "I love you," he rasped against her mouth. "You are mine, Christine. I will not let you go back to _him_."

His weight crushed her, and she struggled to breath. _Dear God, He really is mad!_ His mouth was trying its hardest to coax a response from her—a wasted effort—and she continued to fight with everything she had. She knew she needed to let out a good scream, but he suffocated her with his body and mouth as he held her arms down, no doubt leaving bruises with how hard he clutched them. Her face scrunched up in disgust, wanting to gag with the smell and taste of liquor on his breath. She should have realized earlier that he had been inebriated the entire time.

Christine panicked as her air supply dwindled, and she instinctively bit down hard on his lip. He yelped and shifted over her for a moment, freeing her diaphragm. She drank in the air with gratitude, and then she let out an earsplitting scream for a short second before one of his hands clamped onto her mouth.

"No!" he gasped. "Christine, please!"

It was enough, though. Only seconds later, Louis and Francis barged in and pulled him off of her with ease. Raoul struggled and yelled her name as they dragged him outside, but he was no match for their strength. Christine stood; gasping, and Madame Giry rushed in and wrapped an arm around her. "Hush, it is okay," the woman repeated again and again, confusing Christine, until she realized that she was sobbing. Madame was just trying to calm her.

She was guided into the sitting room and onto a chair, the woman shushing her and stroking her face in a soothing manner. Christine struggled for breath, crying harder when she heard the grunts of pain from outside. This was _not_ how she had expected the evening to go. She had been much, much too optimistic.

"Shh, Christine, it is okay. It is over now," the woman soothed her, handing her a cup of warm tea. "Drink."

She obeyed, and then cried, "Erik. I w-want to go home to Erik."

Madame Giry nodded. "You will, dear, you will," she assured her softly. "We have to wait until…"

Christine nodded in understanding. They must wait until the boys were finished with Raoul. Madame poured Christine more tea, and she drank it slowly, taking deep breaths after every swallow. It helped to calm her down a little, but her body could not relax its tenseness, could not cease its trembling.

There was silence outside for a while, and when Louis and Francis returned, both women stood quickly.

"He is unconscious," Louis informed them. "We dropped him and his horse in an alley nearby."

Francis interjected, "You should get going before he comes to."

Nodding, Christine whispered a choked, "Thank you," to the men, as Madame Giry guided her outside with a soft hand against her back.

* * *

The cool night air as they rode down the rocky streets helped to clear Christine's head just a little, though it certainly did not help to calm her shivering. Pulling Erik's cloak tighter around her and inhaling the faint scent of him, she shut her eyes, trying very hard to reject any thoughts on what had just happened. _Erik. Think of Erik._ She would see him soon, would be surrounded by his strength and spicy, masculine aroma that was so dear to her. She imagined how his eyes ocean eyes would blaze, how his strong arms would feel wrapped around her, warm and loved and safe.

After a while, she dozed unintentionally, and faint dreams of Raoul haunted her. His unrecognizable eyes, sometimes pained others raged or filled with madness, his cruel words, his bitter expression, his restraining hands…what would have happened if she had not been able to scream? It could not be…he could not have…

But she had felt his desire. Knew what he had intended to do.

She eventually shuddered out of that nightmare, her heart racing, unusually alert after the short, unsettling nap. The cold air bit at her face as they rode through the night, and there was no way she would fall back asleep, which was good…and bad. Now, she would have to deal with everything consciously.

It was hard not to blame herself for Raoul's drastic change. She felt so guilty, so frustrated that she had sent Erik into madness back at the Opera and now Raoul. Could she do _anything_ right?

 _Erik_. Erik was right. _Loving_ Erik was right. She would never be sorry for that.

And then, she realized, she should not take responsibility for Raoul's actions. She did not know what she could have done to prevent any of this. Raoul was the one who chose not to move on. He was the one who chose to drink and obsess and drive himself insane. And attempt to…force himself on her…

Her stomach rolled.

Christine did not even realize they had reached the house until the carriage came to a stop, and she breathed a long, shuddering breath of relief and exhaustion.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked Madame. "I could make tea..."

The woman shook her head. "I am fine, dear. Go and rest. I want to hurry home before it gets very late."

Christine nodded, stumbling out of the carriage and turning back to Madame Giry. "Thank you," she whispered. "Be safe."

Madame Giry nodded once, and was on her way.

She nearly ran to the house, praying that Erik would be awake and waiting for her. Her prayers were unnecessary, though. For he swung the front door open before she could even make it there, and she ran straight into him, wrapping her arms around his torso and clutching his back tight. As soon as she was in the safety of his arms, she sobbed, relieved and overwhelmed and exhausted.

"Christine?" Erik was alarmed and on edge, but he held her close. "What is wrong? What happened?" She could not respond coherently, and he pulled her inside the house, sitting and pulling her onto his lap.

She managed to choke out only Erik's name between sobs. "Hush, Christine," he soothed, his voice honey smooth. "I am here. It is all right, Angel. You are safe. Tell me what happened."

Inhaling his delicious scent in deep breaths, she pressed herself to him desperately, unexpected desire coursing through her. Intense and needy, and she kissed him, his chest through his clothing, up his neck, along his jaw, and finally his mouth with urgency. "I missed you," she murmured against his startled lips that barely responded.

When her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat, he pulled away with much effort to demand in a low voice, "Tell me what happened."

"Later," she said shakily. "I do not want to talk about it now. I _need_ you." She pressed her lips against his again, but could feel that he was wary, careful.

He could not resist her for long though, of course. He had worried constantly the entire time she was gone, sure that she would not return for some reason or another, but she was _here._ He could feel her, smell her, taste her, touch her…and could hardly believe it. His own need matched hers now, and he tangled his fingers into her precious curls, figuring it would not kill him to wait for her to tell him what had happened.

Without breaking their kiss, he swept her up in his arms and carried her up to the bedroom.


	21. Chapter 21

**As always, thanks so much for reading! Don't forget to review. :)**

 **This chapter is rated M for MATURE!**

* * *

Chapter 21

Despite the horrid events of the previous evening, Christine slept free of nightmares. Perhaps it was because she had been completely sated and exhausted after her passionate night with Erik that had followed her return home, or because she felt so safe falling asleep in his arms. Or a combination of the two. She woke late in the morning, feeling very warm. Almost too warm, actually, and lying on something not near as soft as the bed.

It was when she felt the light trailing of fingers on her naked back that she realized she was laying on top of Erik, could suddenly feel how he was just as bare as she underneath her. She inhaled a delighted breath and cracked her eyes open, lifting her head to see him.

There he was, awake, his head in the strangest position with the right side of his face buried into the pillow. Her serene smile fell when she realized he was hiding from her, and with soft fingers she coaxed him to face her. Blue eyes finally met hers, cautious and afraid, and she chased away his doubts with a caressing touch to his deformity.

"Good morning," she murmured. "This is a pleasant surprise."

He could have died right then and been content to do so. It was almost all too much to bear; to have felt her body on him all through the night, to have her looking at his face in the morning light with nothing but pure adoration in her brown eyes, to feel her gentle touch on his ruined skin, to hear her voice, raspy and sleep filled with the morning…

Erik sighed. "I forget to inform you last night. Shortly after you left I received word that the housekeeper would not be coming today."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Her husband is ill."

Christine fretted. "I hope he will be all right."

He watched a concerned crease form between her brows, and he fell in love with her all over again. Of course she would be worried for someone she had never even met.

"I am…sure all will be fine."

She beamed and nodded, and leaned forward to kiss him with a soft moan. He did not know how he bore the strength to resist her, but he did, pushing her away gently. "I need to know what happened," he demanded softly, seeing her disappointment. "You will tell me now."

Christine sighed and rolled off of him, sitting up and holding the bedding secure to her to hide her nakedness. She had known this was coming at some point, and decided it would be best to just get it over with. He sat up too, his expression unreadable as he watched her intently.

"Well," she began, nervous, peeking at him once and then avoiding his eyes. "We met at Madame Giry's house as discussed. Raoul arrived by himself, and he and I were left alone to talk." Erik's jaw clenched at that, but she went on. "I immediately told him that he needed to stop searching for me, and stop harassing Madame Giry." She paused. "He was not happy, of course. He tried to get me to leave with him, but I refused."

Christine stopped there, feeling his gaze intent on her face. She feigned innocence as she looked up at him. "That is all, really."

Erik's eyes narrowed. "That is all?" he pressed. "What happened after you refused him?"

She chewed on her lip, not wanting to lie to him but knowing how angry he would be if she told him the truth. He could be truly frightening when he was angry…

Her voice was quiet when she finally answered him. "I called for help, and Madame Giry's cousins took him outside. They knocked him unconscious and I left." She stared down at her hands in her lap, until Erik lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his blazing, suspicious eyes.

"Christine," his voice was low and full of warning. "You are leaving something out. You were obviously distressed when you returned. Tell. Me."

Christine swallowed. _God, he can be so intimidating_. Her voice shook as she said, "He…had been drinking. I did not realize. When I refused him, he would not take it, and I did not know what else to do but tell him firmly that…I did not love him anymore. That I love you. And…he was insane with rage, Erik! He-he grabbed me." Her fingers touched her chin, remembering how Raoul's grip had hurt.

Erik inhaled sharply, his fists tightening into fists. "What else?" he growled through clenched teeth.

"I do not want to tell you," she breathed, eyes filling with moisture at the memory of Raoul's insistent lips on hers. The weight of his body suffocating her…

"I think…I can guess," he said quietly. "That bastard. He tried to…he tried to force himself on you." It was not a question, rather a shocked and disgusted statement. Even in Erik's worst moments of insanity, he would never imagine hurting his Christine like that. Never. He felt as if he would be sick just thinking about it.

She had not even been able to admit it to herself, but as Erik said the words, she knew they were true. Her eyes swimming, she nodded slowly, unable to meet his eyes, terrified of his reaction. "Please," she whispered. "Please do not be angry. I cannot handle it."

Christine had expected him to burst into a fit of rage, but Erik's voice was low and even when he finally spoke, surprising her. "I always knew that boy was a scoundrel." He paused, softly stroking her hair. "Losing you, of course, would drive any man mad. I do not doubt that…but only the lowliest of men would consider…" he broke off, taking a deep breath. "I am very sorry you went through that."

"It was awful," she said thickly, quickly wiping a tear that had escaped. "I never thought he could be so cruel."

Erik pulled her to him, cradling her against his chest. "I should have been there to protect you. I am sorry, my dear." His voice was so soft and level, baffling her once again!

She sniffled. "Who are you and what have you done with Erik? I was afraid you would be on your way to kill him by now."

He chuckled quietly, squeezing her close. "Hmm…perhaps you have made me soft." Pausing, he grew serious, his voice going cold as ice, chilling her. "Oh, but if I ever see him again, he is a dead man, Christine. You will not be able to stop me."

She snuggled closer to him. "I do hope we never see him again, so that it would not come to that."

"I disagree."

Christine took a deep breath, thankful that the whole nightmare was behind them, and that she was home in Erik's arms, safe and sound and warm.

"I am happy enough to have you home safe with me," he said, practically reading her thoughts.

"Oh, me too, Erik." She placed a kiss on his neck, and he grasped her tighter to him. "Mm, I love you."

"I will never understand," he breathed, voice full of wonder. "Though I will never tire of hearing it, either."

"Then I shall never stop saying it," she vowed, tilting her head up in search of a kiss. He obliged, meeting her expectant mouth with a tender kiss that filled her with need, until the sound of Christine's stomach growling made him pause.

"Breakfast first?" he asked her with a smirk.

She flushed. "I suppose."

He chuckled, brushing her pouty lower lip with his thumb. "How adorable you are when you pout."

Before venturing downstairs, Christine washed quickly in the bathroom and raked a comb through her hair in hopes of making it a little tamer. She donned her robe and nothing else with a smirk, securing the fabric to her until it covered the fact that she was naked underneath. Her cheeks were pink as she padded downstairs.

It was a lovely morning. There were sounds of birds chirping outside, bright sunlight coming in through the windows of the sitting room. Erik had set out breakfast for her and gone to ready himself for the day, and she devoured the food quickly. After cleaning up the table, she skipped to the music room, wanting nothing more than to lose herself in her husband for the remainder of the day.

He was deeply engrossed in his music when she entered, and she could tell he wore his usual wig and mask, though his back was to her. She watched him for a while, loving how his shirt clung to the taut muscles of his arms and back, wishing she could kiss and caress every inch of his toned body. The melody he played was soft and sweet, and his fingers glided across the keys masterfully, skillful and smooth. The same hands that had touched her _everywhere_ …

She bit her lip, already seduced and he had not even touched her yet.

When he finished the song, he spoke without turning. "Did you enjoy the song, Christine?" His voice was light, amused.

"How did you know I was here?" she laughed, approaching him and placing her hands on his shoulders.

"The Phantom sees everything," he stated dryly. "You did not answer my question."

Erik sighed heavily as she kneaded her fingers into his neck, and then he heard the soft purr of her voice in his ear. "The song was lovely, but I enjoyed watching you play more." A press of her soft lips to the space below his ear followed, and he swallowed.

In one swift movement, he turned on the bench so fast that it was almost disorienting, and Christine's eyes widened. "Is that so?" he matched her seductive tone, though his was _much_ more impressive than hers, she was sure, and she nodded. Erik grabbed her waist and pulled her to him almost roughly, and she gasped as his hands fisted into her hair and pulled her down to kiss him. What was it that made him so bold? His mask? Perhaps she would not ask him to remove it this time…

Large, strong hands were all over her as they kissed, and she moaned into his mouth when they grabbed greedily at her behind. She remembered all too late that she was completely bare underneath her robe, and when Erik pushed it off of her impatiently, she felt her face heat.

Was she…? He broke their kiss to look, and sure enough, his angel had put on _nothing_ besides her robe. Erik raked his delighted eyes all over her perfect nakedness; having had no idea his sweet young bride could be so bold. Especially as her cheeks were flushed with her shyness when he looked at her face.

"Christine," he growled with a wicked grin, pulling her back to him to reclaim her mouth with his.

 _His kiss._ Oh, how could something so graceless be so utterly delicious? It was the one thing that Erik did that screamed his inexperience, and she adored every second of it. She prayed it would never change, vowed to never tell him how clumsy it was. Her hands raced to unbutton his shirt, and soon he was without it, his skin warm beneath her palms. Erik shuddered when she gently raked her nails down his chiseled torso, and she swallowed his moan.

His greedy mouth moved to her neck, drinking in her intoxicating scent, trailing kisses down her collarbone, and then closing his mouth over one pink nipple. He sucked gently, loving how she voiced her pleasure with the sweetest of sounds and dug her fingers into his shoulders. Yes, he adored the signs that _he_ could make his Christine feel good, just as she so generously did him. He did not deserve her. She deserved everything.

Erik released her breast with a pop, standing and whirling them around to push her down onto the bench. Her eyes were especially dark as she gazed up at him, curious as to what his next move would be, and he watched those pink lips part as he dropped to his knees before her. Bending forward, he first kissed the other, neglected nipple, licking and wetting and sucking until it matched its glistening, swollen twin. He could feel her panting breaths, could very nearly hear her heart pounding against her chest.

He brushed his wet lips down her stomach, warm tongue dipping down to taste her skin, and then kissing along her thigh. She tensed when those insistent hands pulled her forward until she sat at the very edge of the bench and spread her legs apart, but relaxed slightly when he only moved to kiss the insides of her thighs. She braced her hands on the back of the bench, fearing for her balance, but Erik held her waist steady in place. When his teeth grazed her fleshy skin, she tossed her head back with a moan, letting her eyes close.

"You are so lovely," he praised between kisses on each inner thigh, his low, rich voice heating her insides until she burned. "And you taste so, so good, Angel. I want to kiss every part of you."

It was a second too late that she realized what he intended to do, and she gasped in surprise when he gently kissed her most secret place, right between her thighs. _No…_ she almost protested, but when his warm, wet tongue swirled her just where she needed, all she could think was, _oh, yes._ Part of her was so embarrassed that she wanted to shove him off, but the other, much bigger part was embracing this feeling that was quite unlike anything.

Her pleasured cries were loud, and she held onto the bench for dear life, trembling everywhere as she felt the build. "Erik," she mewled, and it sounded like a plea. When she finally dared to look down and see, that was it. His cerulean orbs were fixed right on her face as he licked and kissed, and the moment they made eye contact she shattered hard, keening, her body on fire in the most intense release she had experienced yet.

Erik rose, hardening even further as he watched how she still gasped and trembled from his attentions, her face flushed and dewy with sweat. The fact that he could reduce his Christine to this was titillating, and he smirked down at her with triumph.

When she finally returned back to herself, she looked to find Erik standing, looking down at her with a rather satisfied expression. She shook her head at him and giggled breathlessly, standing and crushing her lips to his in a grateful kiss.

Without breaking their lips apart, he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist and striding across the room to the chaise lounge. He laid her down, their tongues tangling together as he fumbled to free himself from the prison of his trousers. Once freed, he held his rock hardness in his hand, rubbing the tip around Christine's wetness and moaning into her mouth. She tilted her hips upward, trying to push him inside, and he chuckled darkly. "Patience, my dear," he scolded playfully, continuing to tease her. He found he rather liked teasing her.

Only when she shivered with need again did he finally slip inside, filling her and setting a slow, delicious pace. When he quickened the pumps of his hips, she groaned, raking her fingernails down his back and biting his lower lip carefully. "Vixen," he growled, tangling his fingers into her hair and pushing into her harder, faster. She grinned saucily, humming her agreement.

 _Oh_ , how she loved him. Loved _this_ with him. She wished he could be as confident as he was now without his mask and wig. Either way, he was _him_. Either way, she loved him desperately. Perhaps someday he would understand that, and be just as comfortable without his disguise, if she could find ways to reassure him every day.

When Christine came undone once again, he followed soon after, her name escaping his lips like a prayer.


	22. Chapter 22

**Reviews keep me writing. :) Thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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Chapter 22

First days passed, then weeks, then months, and Christine began to lose track of how much time had gone by altogether. Mornings and afternoons and nights spent with Erik were melding together in one blissful blur filled with so much joy, passion, and love, most of all. The nightmare involving Raoul was far behind them, it seemed, and Christine's life could not have been happier. Summer came, and with it warm sunny days that made her happiness seem to intensify.

They had come so far. Christine often remembered how her feelings for Erik had once confused her, even scared her, and she thanked God every night that those days were non-existent anymore. Now, she could not picture spending a single day without him, their love seeming to grow every moment they spent together.

Erik had made so much progress. He still wore his mask and wig out of habit most days, but it was not near as hard for him to go without when Christine asked. He had obviously grown more comfortable and confident in their relationship, often showing a playful nature with her that she adored. She never would have expected him to be so…silly, so _fun._ But most nights were spent chasing each other around the house, or getting into tickle fights, or even play fighting. It was almost as if he were finding his inner child after all these years without it. Sometimes it made her emotional, seeing how happy he was. She would not trade a single second of his happiness for anything.

One sunny afternoon, they were walking through the now lush, blooming garden. The flowers delighted Christine, and they had been taking walks almost every day since the weather had been so wonderful. Erik had seemed deep in thought all that day, and with the way his jaw and fists were clenched she figured he was angry or stressed about something. When she had asked if anything was wrong, however, he had assured her that it was nothing for her to worry about.

She had been bent to inhale the aroma of some tulips when Erik cleared his throat. She straightened, looking to him expectantly.

"My dear," he said, taking her hands in his. His gaze was intense and serious as he stared into her curious eyes. "There is something I must tell you."

Her eyebrows furrowed together in worry. "What is it, Erik?"

He squeezed her hands tightly, spitting out the words. "I was not going to tell you, but I think it is best if you know. I have…been in contact with Madame Giry, and she has informed me that apparently the… _Vicomte,"_ he sneered the word, "has not ceased in his searching like we thought."

Christine's heart stopped. Weren't those worries supposed to be far behind them? She felt sick.

Still, Erik went on bitterly. "Though he did stop harassing Giry, he still has not given up altogether. He and a group of men have been searching every inch of the city, and now they have moved on to looking to the outskirts of town. According to Giry's estimate, they should be heading this way at some point."

Gaping, she was silent for a while, and Erik waited for her to respond with a careful, concerned look. She stared at her masked husband, a distressed cry bursting through her lips, the sudden fear of losing him paralyzing. "What are we to do?" she eventually choked.

Erik's mouth pressed into a thin, angry line, and she immediately knew what he was thinking. "Erik, no," she chided softly, freeing one of her hands to cup the unmasked side of his face. "Killing is wrong, no matter who it is."

He flinched away from her caress and pulled his hand free of hers, striding a few feet away. "Christine," he growled, not facing her. "What other way is there? I swear if I even see that _boy's_ face near our home he is dead. You cannot stop me."

Christine sighed. No, she could not stop him, and she knew that. Still, the thought of Erik killing anyone, including Raoul, frightened her to no end. But…he did have a point to consider. What other way was there? Run? Leave?

The thought made her sad. She loved the home that Erik had designed for them, and she did not ever want to leave, could not even imagine leaving it. He likely did not either.

She strode to his tense form, wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling his chest. "Oh, Erik," she said. "It is going to be all right. We can just hide when they come! It is not like they can come barging in." He seemed to relax a fraction as he slowly returned her embrace, running a hand through her curls. She felt him emit a distressed sigh. "No one could ever take me from you, my love."

Erik kissed the top of her head. "You are right. I will set traps immediately, that way they will regret even trying to come in." His voice softened. "I know you do not like when I use violence, my dear, but please try to understand…I want to eliminate anyone on this earth who would dream of hurting you, or taking you from me. My only care in the world is _you_."

Throat tight, she leaned up to kiss his exposed jaw. "I understand, Erik," she whispered between kisses. "You are afraid of losing me. Well…I am scared of losing you, too. But killing should never be your first choice. We will find some other way."

He gave a strained sigh, half in part by her sweet lips on him and half because of their vulnerable conversation. "It is all I know," he eventually whispered, ashamed.

She took his face in her hands, one touching warm skin and one touching cool porcelain. "Not anymore," she said, pulling him down until their lips met.

Without warning, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her back into the house. They did not speak more on the topic for the rest of that day.

* * *

"Madame, wake up!" Adele shook her gently, but the girl did not budge. She shook a little harder. "Christine!"

Before Adele could really worry, Christine groaned and stretched, and it took her a while to find actual words.

"Adele," she complained sleepily, when she did. "I was having such a lovely dream!"

Christine glared her sleep filled eyes playfully at the housekeeper, and Adele laughed. "Madame, it is nearly lunchtime! Don't you think you should wake up?"

"Lunchtime?" Christine sat up quickly then, clutching the bedding to her chest to keep her naked torso covered. Had she really slept that long? She felt stiff, and could feel her hair's wild presence atop her head.

"Yes," Adele said. "I was very late arriving today, and I found you still asleep. In fact, you have been sleeping late quite a lot this past couple of weeks." Her tone turned suspicious.

"Weird," Christine pondered, but shrugged it off. "Must be all the exercise I have been getting." Her cheeks heated, and she avoided Adele's eyes.

Adele gave a knowing look. "Is that what you call it?" the woman teased, and Christine wanted to throw a pillow at her. Instead, she shook her head and tried to hide her blush.

The housekeeper gathered her dirty clothes and threw Christine her dressing robe. "I ran you a bath. I would get in before the water gets cold."

She donned her robe and skipped to Adele's side to peck her cheek. "Thank you, Adele," she said sweetly, making the woman smile.

Christine took her time bathing, daydreaming of Erik, as was inevitable. He _was_ her entire life now, after all. Memories of the previous night flooded her mind, and her cheeks heated as her thighs clenched together under the warm water. She already could not wait to see him when Adele left.

Often, she wished he would not be so reclusive toward the housekeeper and just stay in bed with her every morning. But, of course, she knew Erik would never be comfortable with that. There had been one week when Adele was out of town, and she had adored waking in his warm embrace every morning. She did love the housekeeper, but sometimes she wished the woman would be absent more often…

Just then, Christine's stomach rumbled angrily, breaking her from her heated thoughts as she realized that she was ravenous. She finished her bath with haste and dried off, slipping on her robe again and combing her damp hair until Adele came in with fresh clothes for her to change into.

She all but ran downstairs to eat when she was fully dressed in her light cotton dress.

Though she had devoured her lunch in mere seconds, Christine was almost embarrassed to find that she was still hungry. She cleaned up the table, taking the dishes to the kitchen. When those were clean, she found an apple and began eating it as well.

Adele eventually came in with a confused look on her face. "Did you finish your lunch already?"

Christine nodded and gave a sheepish smile. "I was famished." She took another bite of her apple.

"You always are these days," she said, her tone suspicious once again. "Sleeping a lot, eating a lot…" A long pause, and then, "Tell me, Madame, when was your last menstrual cycle?"

Christine's eyes went wide. "Adele," she gasped. "That is…a very personal question."

Adele shrugged, "Forgive me, Christine. You do not have to answer if you do not wish to."

Christine silently considered her question, chewing self-consciously on her apple. When _had_ her last cycle been? Was that something she was supposed to keep track of? It seemed like it had been a while, definitely more than a month…perhaps even two.

She was not so naïve that she did not understand what that meant. She gasped at the realization, her half eaten apple slipping from her hand.

"Christine…?" she heard Adele's concern.

"It…it has been well over a month," Christine whispered. "That means…I-I am…" She was not quite ready to say the word out loud.

Adele finished the sentence for her, her voice warm. "Pregnant! Congratulations, Madame!"

Christine placed a hesitant, shaky hand on her stomach. It felt soft and flat, as it usually did, but also…different, somehow. Hearing the words said aloud, she knew they were true. There was not a doubt in her mind. Her eyes filled with moisture, her stomach fluttering and her blood rushing warmer in her veins. A tiny smile adorned her lips at the realization.

She was with child.


	23. Chapter 23

**I've always had a soft spot for this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do. :) Please, don't forget to review!**

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Chapter 23

Mostly, Christine was happy. A little scared, but so happy. She always knew that she wanted to have a child someday. Of course, it seemed a bit early, but she figured she should not let that deter her excitement.

Would Erik be excited too?

She chewed on her lip, realizing she had no idea how he would react. They had never discussed children before, and worry creased her forehead as she considered the worst possible reactions he could have.

Angry? She could see no reason why he would be. Disgusted? No, surely he was not _that_ type of man. Terrified? _Oh really Christine, you are being ridiculous,_ she thought to herself, shaking her head. Erik would have to be just as happy as she.

Right?

Christine helped Adele with the rest of the housework that needed to be done, deep in thought all the while. Her silence had not gone unnoticed. "Are you all right, Christine?" Adele asked when they had finished, snapping her out of her trance-like thinking. "You _are_ happy about this child, are you not?"

"Oh, of course I am," Christine assured her. "It…it is Erik I am worried about. We have not…discussed children before. I am afraid I have no clue as to what his reaction will be."

Adele stroked the dear girl's curls. "I am sure he will be thrilled. If he truly loves you, which you know he does, then he will love your child as well. I have no doubt of it."

Christine looked up at her through suddenly glistening eyes.

"I am so happy for you two," Adele added, her sincerity making Christine's heart swell. Here she was: an older woman who had never been able to conceive a child of her own, genuinely happy for Christine's pregnancy. She had to bite back a sob as she crushed the woman into an embrace.

"Oh, Adele. You always know just how to make me feel better," Christine murmured earnestly, voice thick. "I do not know what I did to deserve a friend such as you."

When Adele pulled back, she smiled, squeezing Christine's hands. "And I you, dear. Now, I must go, but I will see you tomorrow, yes?"

Christine nodded and wiped at her wet eyes, turning to make her way to the music room. Her heart raced, her legs feeling heavy as she walked, and when she finally found courage to enter, she took a long breath before doing so. She found Erik not sitting at his piano, but reading a thick volume, sitting on the chaise lounge. When he saw her enter, he slammed the book shut and threw it on the end table.

"About time," he murmured, striding fast to where she stood. Instantly, one of Erik's hands was tangled in her hair and the other pressed against her back as his mouth claimed hers. She gave a startled yet delighted moan into his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. He kissed her enthusiastically, purring between kisses, "Sweet, lovely wife. You always taste so divine."

Her knees buckled beneath her, threatening her balance. How could her husband be so sweet and so seductive all at once?

"You seem happy to see me," she gasped the understatement, as he moved to kiss her jaw and neck.

"You kept me waiting a long time, dearest," his voice was low and husky, and she felt a pool of heat low in her abdomen. She almost forgot what she needed to tell him as he continued to assault her senses with his kiss and touch and voice. She seemed to forget her own name, in fact.

But then, Erik began to unbutton her dress, his mouth still on her neck, when she blurted it out on accident. "I am pregnant," she rasped, and then froze, startled at her own self. _Good God, Christine._

Erik jolted upright, holding her at arms length, eyes blazing and breath heavy. Christine read his shocked expression, thankful that he did not seem angry, at least. The silence between then stretched on, and Christine began to worry. "E-Erik?"

 _You imbecile!_ She had to fight to refrain from groaning in humiliation. She should have broached the topic first and discussed it with him before just…telling him like she did. At least that way she could have predicted what his reaction might be! She waited patiently for him to speak, internally cursing herself all the while.

"Pregnant?" he finally choked, avoiding her eyes and looking like he was going to be sick. It was so not like him at all, and it might have even been humorous had it been a different situation.

"Yes," she stammered, "I am quite s-sure I am." Silence. "Erik?"

He stumbled a couple of steps back, leaning on his legs as if to support himself. "How do you figure?" he eventually asked, still not meeting her eyes.

Christine flushed. "My…um…'monthly visitor' has not made an appearance in a while," she murmured, staring daggers at the floor, _praying_ she would not need to explain more than that.

Apparently, she did. Erik only stared, his expression quizzical. "Monthly visitor?" he repeated, confused, and when Christine turned red as a tomato he finally got it. "Oh! You mean your…female…cycle?"

He did not seem to enjoy discussing this anymore than she, and she nodded fast, avoiding his eyes.

Erik finally stood upright again, relaxing a smidge. The unmasked side of his face betrayed no emotion. "Well," he said, obviously still uncomfortable. "That does not…necessarily prove anything. We will not know for sure until we hear a doctor's opinion. I, ah, will send for one immediately."

He strode across the room to his piano, and Christine followed, saying, "It is not only that, Erik. I have been sleeping and eating much more than I ever have before." He seemingly ignored her, frantically searching for stationary and some ink. She continued nervously, "I know myself, my body, and I _know_ that there has been a change." He still searched, not once looking in her direction. "Erik…?"

Nothing.

" _Why are you ignoring me!?"_ Her sudden shout startled the both of them.

Erik looked to her with wide eyes. Had she ever raised her voice to him like that before? He could think of only that day…the day she was going to leave. She had been so angry with him, and for good reason. Now, her anger was startling. But what was even more startling were the hot, thick tears that pooled in her eyes. Her face turned bright pink, and she started to cry.

Erik's attitude and the obvious fact that he was not overjoyed about her news wounded her, but even she knew that she was overreacting. Still, she could not help but run over to the chaise and bury her face in the cushion, sobbing.

He watched her fit from across the room, mentally cursing himself. _Damned idiot._ He loathed himself for making her cry, no matter how overly dramatic her tears may be. It was not like she could help it, what with being pregnant and all.

She was pregnant. _Erik's wife was bearing his child._

And he was wasting time acting like a complete and total ass.

He finally rushed over to her, shushing her gently and pulling her into his arms. He let her cry into his shirt, saying nothing but holding her with tenderness. Once her tears died down, she whispered an apology, and Erik took her face in his hands and tilted it up to meet his ocean eyes.

"And what on Earth do you have to be sorry for?" he nearly growled.

"For blurting it out like that," she sniffled, voice trembling. "I could have done that a little more practically."

" _You_ did nothing wrong," he assured her. He hesitated, avoiding her eyes for a moment before mumbling. "I am sure my reaction was not what you had hoped for."

Christine whispered back, "No, it was not."

He released a shaky breath. "Please, do not misunderstand," he pleaded, thumbs brushing her cheeks. "The idea of _you_ , my loving, beautiful wife…my Christine bearing _my_ child…" He had to pause a moment before going on, voice thick with emotion. "It brings me more joy than you could ever imagine."

She could see that he meant every word, that there was no denying the sincerity in his eyes and voice. So she wondered aloud, "Your reaction though…why?"

"I…I am simply surprised, is all. Shocked. I never thought I would be fortunate enough to ever be a father. And so soon…" He paused a moment, seeming more vulnerable as he went on. "I lived so long pretending to be a ghost, and well…sometimes I even believed I was. But…I am just a man. You have helped me realize that. And these short months with you have been so wonderful, so filled with perfect happiness that I did not picture things changing for a while. And now this, so soon…do you understand what I mean?"

His struggle for words was endearing, and she smiled softly at him. "I do," she said, nodding. "It is unexpected, and it does seem early. But knowing that I am carrying your child makes me so happy that nothing else matters. And I hoped you would feel the same."

"Oh, I do, my dear." His voice was honey smooth, and he held her close again. "And if you are sure, than I trust your judgment. Forgive me for reacting as I did."

Christine nuzzled his chest. "You are already forgiven, my love."

Erik stood then, pulling her with him slowly. She regarded him with curiosity, and he seemed hesitant about something.

"May I?" he finally asked, gesturing to her stomach.

"Oh, of course."

Ever gently, he placed a soft hand low on her abdomen, his eyes full of wonder. "Feels normal," he murmured.

She nodded. "It is still early. I assume it will be weeks before we see a significant change."

Without warning, Erik dropped to his knees, pressing the bare side of his face against her stomach and holding onto her waist. "Ah, Christine," he rejoiced, "I cannot believe my child is inside of you." His voice shook with the depth of his emotion, and her heart seemed to expand in her chest. Tears of joy sprang in her eyes. _This_ was what she had wanted. Her beloved husband, full of wonder and joy at her pregnancy.

Christine sniffled audibly, and Erik's head snapped up to look at her.

"What is wrong?"

She smiled through her tears, dropping to her knees to get on his level. "Not wrong, Erik," she assured him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Everything is so right."

Erik's own eyes got glossy, and they embraced tightly, still kneeling on the floor.

"I love you," Christine whispered after a while.

Erik pulled back just enough to kiss her softly on her lips. "And I you, Angel."

He kissed her again, with fervor this time, which put the usual aching need in her core. The kiss deepened, his hands tangling in her hair and his tongue seeking entrance between her parted lips. A rumble sounded deep in his chest as his hands found the buttons of her dress once more.

She broke away from his kiss to gasp, "You…you would still find me desirable?"

He chuckled. "You are joking, yes?"

Christine shook her head, her cheeks pink. "I am quite serious. What about when I start to show that I am pregnant?"

Now he looked at her with mild annoyance. "Christine, you will always be the most beautiful thing in the world to me, even if you had webbed feet or grew a third eye. Now, may I continue kissing you?"

Before she could even answer, his mouth was back on hers, and she did not argue further. Could not. His reassurance, though sort of funny, put her mind at ease, and so she willingly lost herself in him.


	24. Chapter 24

**As always, please enjoy this chapter! Another M rated one here. You've been warned. ;) Thank you so much for reading, and please, don't forget to review.**

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Chapter 24

Christine tried with all of her might not to fall asleep at the dinner table. She really was exhausted all of the time these days.

It had been over a month since she figured out she was pregnant, and she now had a small but defined bump on her abdomen. It was not noticeable when she was fully clothed, but she would often take some time in the morning before she dressed to study her changing body in the mirror with fascination.

Already, she loved the child she was carrying more than she ever thought she could.

Her increased eating and sleeping habits had only intensified with time. Those seemed to be her only symptoms besides one other. Luckily, there was no morning sickness, however they figured out another change when in the bedroom one night. Erik had gone to fondle her breast and she had yelped in pain, shocking the both of them. Since then, she could not stand even the tiniest touch against her sensitive chest. Though Erik was not much a fan of this symptom, he respected it and avoided contact with that area of her body.

Erik was just finishing his dinner when he noticed Christine nodding off, and he chuckled quietly.

"Bedtime already, my dear?"

Christine jumped fully awake at his loud, teasing tone, and she glared at him hotly. "Must you tease me?" she complained. "You know how tired I am. I helped Adele with chores all day, and then I was outside picking flowers all afternoon. My feet hurt."

She pouted angrily, her foul mood making Erik press his lips together, trying to hide his smile.

Most of the time, Christine was in a happy, blissful state of mind. Even with this new exhaustion from her pregnancy, she had made a huge effort to deal with it and still be positive. But lately, she would become overwhelmed by the tiredness, putting her into these awful moods that made her irritated and snappy.

Erik found it quite hilarious.

Her eyes narrowed at him even further when she could tell that he was trying not to laugh at her, which only fed his entertainment. He tried to disguise a chuckle with a cough. "You are not very good at acting," Christine grumbled, crossing her arms and whipping her head to the side dramatically.

He grinned, enjoying the show. After debating for a short moment, Erik got up and strode over to where she was sitting to scoop her up into his arms without warning.

"Erik!" she protested. "What are you doing?"

He carried her with ease up the stairs, inhaling the skin of her neck and playfully biting her earlobe, sending shivers down her body. "You are quite adorable when you are cross with me," he purred into her ear. "I am taking you to bed, you grumpy woman."

Bad mood forgotten, excitement took its place so quickly that it was almost disorienting, a familiar tightening in her belly at his words. Her heartbeat quickened, and she wondered if her body would always have the same reaction to him. Drawn to him, screaming for him, _needing_ him…

She prayed that it would never fade with time.

Erik carried her into the bedroom, lit dimly by the fading sunset, and tossed her carefully onto the bed. He stood at the edge and lifted her skirts out of the way, picking up her left leg. She stared at him with equal parts curiosity and desire, as Erik slowly reached for the beginning of her stocking. He pulled it off torturously slow, gazing at her pale leg all the while as it became exposed.

"W-what are you doing?" she rasped, leaning up on her elbows.

Erik tossed the discarded garment aside and took her bare foot into both his hands, kneading and massaging with care. "I am rubbing your feet," he said slowly, as if it were obvious.

She was about to ask why, but his strong hands manipulating her achy foot felt oh so good. Too good, actually. His long, deft fingers knew just where to press to make her gasp with pleasure, ache for him. How could _this_ touch be so sensual?

Was Erik bad at _anything?_

It was not long before she was slick with need. Feet be damned; she just wanted _him._ She tried to sit up and pull him to her, but pouted when he pushed her down and shook his head.

"I have not done the other foot," he said softly. He repeated the process on her right leg, slowly removing her stocking and expertly massaging her. It did feel wonderful, and she could not help but hum tunelessly in contentment.

Erik paused, distracted the sound of her pleasure, but began again when she looked up at him in question.

It did not go unnoticed to Christine, and a plan formed in her mind. Hoping it would get his attention, she sucked in a sharp gust of air and bit her lip, letting her eyes flutter closed. She could have sworn she could hear him swallow, and when he pressed harder on her foot, and she moaned.

"All done," he growled, basically jumping on top of her.

She grinned in triumph as she grabbed his shirt, and their mouths met. He hovered over her with carefulness but claimed her mouth possessively, his hands on either side of her face. Even through the layers and layers of clothing, Christine could feel his hardness pressing against her. Adjusting her hips, she teasingly rubbed against him, moaning at the exquisite friction. Erik groaned softly, grinding against her in return.

Her hands found the buttons of his shirt and undid them with urgency, and Erik leaned up for a split second to shrug it off before returning to her kiss. Christine removed his wig so that she may run her hands through his real hair, and then his mask, and he did not show even an ounce of hesitation or protest.

Oh, how far they had come!

Christine pushed Erik up until they were both on their knees, moving to kiss his neck and jaw, running her hands along his chiseled chest in admiration. Breathing heavily, Erik unbuttoned her dress quickly, impatiently pulling it off of her and throwing it aside.

They continued like that, undressing one another as if it could not be done quickly enough, until they were each bare. Erik laid Christine down and kissed her again, and even with experience and time his kiss still managed to be clumsy and rough and wonderful. She reached down between them, finding his rock harness and stroking it in her dainty hand. She loved the growl he emitted, felt the sound right between her legs.

One of his hands trailed up her thigh, and right when she thought he would touch her intimately, he started over, moving his hand back down. He continued this a few more times, running his hand up and down, the teasing torturing her and entertaining him.

"Erik," Christine finally groaned, releasing her hold on him and tangling both hands in his hair in frustration. " _Please_."

He chuckled darkly, somehow finding and encasing both of her wrists in one large hand and pinning them above her head. "Patience, love," was his husky reply, kissing her mouth again.

Though she quivered violently, Erik intended to make her wait, making no move to enter her as he grinded himself against her hip. She felt his teasing smile as they kissed, and she bit down his lower lip hard, feeling his sharp inhale as he pulled back.

"Wretched girl," he growled through his teeth, grinning salaciously.

"Depriving man," she retorted, her voice high-pitched and needy. "It is cruel, making your poor wife wait like this when she needs you _so much_."

His only eyebrow quirked upward, and he nodded once before releasing her wrists and rolling off her, onto his back. She sat up, watched him as he lied there and brought his hands to rest behind his head in a relaxed position. "Do whatever you please, Madame," he eventually said, his voice low and seductive and lightly mocking.

She felt her cheeks turn red, but she would not let her surprise and slight embarrassment deter her from getting what she wanted. Erik's eyes blazed as she climbed atop him, straddling his waist, grasping him in her hand and lowering herself onto him. They connected with ease, Christine having been much more than ready, and she whimpered as she rode him, scratching her nails down his chiseled chest.

Unable to keep his hands to himself, he dug his fingers into either side of her behind, reveling in the fleshy softness of this part of her body, his chest grumbling in appreciation. She tossed her head back and emitted a desperate noise, and the titillating sound along with the sight of her above him, taking her pleasure from him, was almost enough to undo him right there. Somehow he resisted, though her tight, wet warmth squeezing around him was so incredibly exquisite that he could have wept tears of joy and gratitude.

Christine looked down at his glistening body before her, eventually meeting the twin oceanic depths that seemed to somehow burn into her, and her throat got…unexpectedly tight with what she saw there. The way he looked at her…there was lust—of course; they _were_ making love, after all—but also a sort of worshipfulness, awe, adoration. His love for her screamed through his eyes, and she was very suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, as if only just now understanding just how much she meant to him.

And she loved him every bit as much.

" _Erik,_ " she cried, not knowing how else to express what she was feeling as her pleasure built, her eyes growing wet. He continued to look her in her eyes, no mask, no wig, nothing between them. He was so brave and loving and wonderful and, oh, he was going to make an amazing father.

What if anything ever happened to him? What if something bad was going to happen?

Unwelcome, Raoul's face, twisted with his unrecognizable madness, filled her mind, and she emitted a startled cry as she leaned down to bury her face in the crook of Erik's neck, freezing all movement.

"You are shaking," he gasped. "Christine?"

She began to weep, and Erik was concerned and, he had to admit, a little frightened by her sudden change in behavior. He held her close and stayed still, waiting for her to calm.

"What is the matter, Angel?" he finally whispered, his heart racing in his chest. What if she had finally decided she did not love him? That she had been kidding herself this whole time? His stomach twisted painfully at the awful thought. No, it could not be true…

"Oh, Erik," she whispered, and he could feel her shaky breath on his neck, along with the tears she had shed. "I am so afraid. What if something were to happen? What if I lost you?"

"My dear, that would _never_ happen," he assured her, trying to disguise his relief at her words. She was afraid of _losing him._ His own eyes watered, and he ran his fingers through her hair, clutching slightly. Without warning, she wiggled her hips, and his breath hitched at the movement, stirring him to life within her again.

What on Earth was he to do with her?

"Forgive me," she murmured, moving atop him once more, and he could not hold back the soft groan that escaped him. "I just…oh, Erik, I love you so much!" Her mouth was on his then, with desperation, urgency, and he could not think coherently for a while afterwards. He rolled them over, his instincts taking charge, as he slammed into her hard, fast, his mouth never leaving hers even as she cried out in ecstasy.

Christine writhed under him, feeling that all too familiar build as she dug her nails into his back and raked them downward. Growling, he moved his lips to her neck so that he could kiss and suck and lick and bite, and she began to keen as the pleasure met its peak.

When he felt her tighten and shudder and then, finally, relax around him, he allowed himself his own intoxicating release, seeing stars behind his eyes that had clenched shut.

Soon after, they were in their usual bedtime positions: Erik lying on his back, Christine cuddled into his side with his arm around her, her head resting on his shoulder, his fingers caressing the back of her shoulder and arm.

She was just on the brink of sleep when she heard Erik murmur quietly, "Tell me what you are afraid of."

Her eyes fluttered open lazily, and she chewed on her lip. They had received a letter from Madame Giry the day before. The woman had been secretly keeping an eye on the Vicomte, and he and his search team were getting closer to their location. It could be any day that they showed up to their home, scoping things out. Christine had originally thought that they could easily hide from them, but now with the baby on the way, she was worried about any possible thing going wrong.

What if they managed to get into the house? What if Raoul had many men that Erik could not handle on his own? What exactly were they going to _do_ to him? To her?

"I only…have a feeling. A bad one. That is all," she said, voice shaky. "That we might…I do not know. Be separated somehow?"

"You are worried about the boy, aren't you?" His voice betrayed no emotion.

Christine sighed. "Yes. And Madame's note did not help any. I feel…sick with worry, Erik. I cannot lose you." She pressed herself closer to him, and felt the press of his lips atop her head.

"I understand. But you do not have to worry. I have traps set and the cellar prepared should we have to hide. It is going to be fine. _We_ are going to be fine."

She yawned; his honey smooth voice and reassuring words easing her fears and helping her relax. "Perhaps you are right," she breathed, eyelids slipping closed again. "I will try not to worry."

Christine was silent for a while after, and Erik assumed she had fallen asleep. But then, her sleepy voice filled the silence.

"I love you, Erik."

He released a shaky breath, swallowing the lump in his throat. Would he ever believe her? "I love you, my Christine. Now sleep."

And she did.


	25. Chapter 25

**Oof. First half of this chapter is also rated M. :p I know, I know, stop with the smut, Madi! Haha. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter, as always, and don't hesitate to leave me your thoughts!**

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Chapter 25 

The next few days came and went, and Christine's worries were somewhat tamed when no problems arose. Adele had gone away to visit family for a bit, so Christine was thrilled to wake up with Erik each morning. Even when her dreams were haunted with terrifying images of Raoul and his men invading her happy life, she woke up blissful as ever as soon as she realized she was still in Erik's warm, safe embrace.

Since Adele was gone, Christine spent her days doing the housekeeper's usual chores. Erik had tried to tell her not to bother, and had even gotten angry with her, but she insisted. He would not let her do them alone, however, and so they spent most of the day side by side.

Christine could not imagine being happier.

It was just dawn one morning when she woke to soft, gentle kisses all over her face. Still mostly asleep, she wondered if she were merely dreaming, but those hot lips brushed down her neck soon after, and across her collarbone… Despite her sleepy state, each kiss was enough to send a flash of heat to her core, desire pooling in her belly. Squirming, she emitted a moaning sigh, and could feel her husband's upturn of lips at the sound.

No, not a dream at all, it seemed.

How Christine loved waking up like this. Erik had made a habit of waking her quite early with sweet kisses whenever he had to leave for town that day. Had he mentioned anything the day before about needing to leave? She could not remember.

Erik kissed down her naked torso, dipping his tongue down to taste her skin, lingering at her stomach for a while. He knew his sweet bride was impatient when it came to her desires, and yet he loved nothing more than building her anticipation, making her wait. He continued his quest, feeling her body begin to tremble before him when he bent down and softly kissed up her thighs, moving closer to where he knew she burned.

The waiting was excruciating, and though Christine had only minutes before been relaxed and motionless, she now shook all over, unable to keep from squirming as he kissed her inner thighs with utmost gentleness, his warm tongue burning her skin. She felt as is she might cry if he did not kiss her where she needed him to, but before she could, he so generously gave her what she wanted.

Ever tentative, ever gentle, he kissed and licked between her legs with care, knowing with experience exactly how to bring his Christine pleasure. She moaned quietly but squirmed more aggressively than before. _No, that will not do,_ he thought, bringing his large, strong hands to her waist, holding her in place.

She was on fire now, craving release already even as the delicious feelings grew. When he inserted a single finger inside of her as he continued his attentions with his mouth, she tangled her fingers in his sparse hair, the bronze strands soft to the touch. Her sleepy moans were soon replaced by louder cries, and she saw stars behind her closed eyes when the pleasure finally found its peak, and she shattered.

Christine was just coming back to Earth when Erik went to hover atop her, and she heard his warm greeting in her ear. "Good morning." He kissed the space underneath her ear, making his way to her parted lips and then kissing them with tenderness.

She giggled breathlessly as she felt his demanding arousal against her thigh. "Indeed," she breathed in response against his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and parting her legs for him.

Erik made love to her gently, passionately, and only found his own release when she had found hers for the second time that morning. Her heart fluttered with the realization of just how selfless and wonderful he was, and she expressed her gratitude with loving caresses and kisses on his mask-less face.

They were snuggled up to one another afterward, entangled in their usual embrace, when Christine randomly released a giggle.

"What is funny? Erik asked, smiling at her strange, sudden giddiness.

"Nothing," she giggled. "I just…I would like to wake up like this more often." She lifted her head to smile wickedly at him, and he joined in her laughter.

"Insatiable girl," he growled playfully, kissing her mouth once. "I am sure that can be arranged."

"Were you planning on leaving today?" she wondered aloud, her brow furrowing.

Erik sighed. "I told you yesterday at breakfast; I have a few errands to run today. We are running low on food. I thought you had heard me, but I guess you were too interested in _your_ food." He laughed again, and she flushed a bright pink that twisted his stomach with its loveliness. When Erik realized it was from embarrassment that she blushed, he quickly stopped laughing. "Which is completely understandable, my dear," he assured her, placing a gentle hand on her slightly swollen stomach. "You are eating for two, after all."

"I _am_ getting larger everyday," she mumbled self-consciously.

"And more beautiful," he added, his voice honey smooth, and right then, Christine felt a strange twitch in her abdomen.

"Oh!" she gasped. "Erik, did you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

Christine moved his hand to where she thought she had felt the twitch, and pressed it harder against her skin.

"What are you-" he started to ask, but then he felt the tiniest nudge against his hand, freezing. When he realized what that twitch meant, he felt as if he would burst from the overwhelming joy that was…almost too much for him to bear.

Wide blue eyes, glistening with awe, met Christine's, and she was sure her own eyes mirrored his. "Our baby," she whispered. "I have never felt it move before just now."

"Extraordinary," he breathed, an almost childlike wonder filled expression on his face. Christine choked up at the sight, having never quite seen that specific look on Erik's face before. Even without his mask, in that moment, he had never looked more beautiful to her.

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Christine stood on the front doorstep and watched as Erik rode off on Caesar toward town. He was clad in his usual, all black attire, and luckily the day was cloudy and cool. Otherwise, she imagined he would be sweltering underneath all that clothing. She waited until he was out of sight before reluctantly going back inside, locking the door behind her.

Erik had been very clear that she was to stay inside, and keep all of the doors and windows locked, and that if anyone was to come knocking she should hide until he returned. She had agreed, but Christine was not that worried. Erik would only be gone for half the day, and they had gotten no sign of Raoul or anyone snooping around their home at all.

Perhaps Raoul had given up, after all. She could only hope.

Christine set about her chores after breakfast, which did not take too long to complete. The bouquet of flowers that she had arranged for the dinner table were seeing their final days, so she decided to pick a new arrangement in the garden. She remembered Erik's strict warning to remain indoors, but she internally rolled her eyes, not seeing any harm in it if she was quick about it.

She hastily made her way to the garden, picking the brightest, most colorful arrangement of flowers that she could. Despite the grey skies, she was in a jovial mood after the surreal morning she and Erik had had, and she wanted her flowers to depict just that.

She did keep an eye and ear out, just in cast, but of course there was not even the hint of anyone nearby. Christine felt more and more relaxed, knowing that obviously no one would come for them. She went back inside and put her new bouquet in the vase on the table, taking a step back to admire her work. A satisfied smile adorned her face, but then, her stomach growled.

All of the activity had worked up quite an appetite, and Christine went to the kitchen in search of something sweet like she so suddenly craved. Unfortunately, she found that she had finished the last of the fruit and pastries that very morning at breakfast, and that Erik would be returning with more that evening. Sighing, she reached for a plain slice of bread, but then a thought paused her.

There was a berry bush not very far into the woods that she and Erik had come across a while back on one of their summer walks together. She could almost taste those ripe, sweet berries on her tongue just thinking about them, her mouth watering. Surely she could go retrieve some without incident, could she not?

She knew Erik would no doubt be furious if he found out, would likely throw a furious fit, but he did not have to know. He would not be home until much later, after all.

Christine donned Erik's cloak, her favorite because it always smelled of his natural, spicy musk, and lifted the hood for caution. If she were to break the rules, at least she would be safe while she did. She found an empty basket in the kitchen and lined the inside with a clean cloth for the berries, and then went out the backdoor and strode quickly into the forest.

She was glad that she had decided to wear a thicker, long sleeved dress that morning. It really was chilly, and the wind was blowing fiercely. Honestly, though, Christine did not mind. Sunny days were wonderful, but she had grown a strange fondness for overcast skies.

After a while of searching, Christine eventually found the berry bush, having been farther into the forest that she had originally thought. She picked as many as she could find, popping a few of the tart fruits into her mouth as she did and sighing happily. She felt an excited little flutter in her belly, and she had to pause to smile and pat it tenderly.

It seemed the baby had wanted berries as well.

She picked until her basket was nearly full, and Christine had finally turned to leave when a flash of movement caught her eye. Some distance away, a figure stood leaning against a tree casually, watching her. And it was with a sinking stomach that she realized it was a man.

He did not look familiar, but still, the sight of anyone was enough to cause panic, and Christine's heart rate quickened as she froze.

From afar, he just looked like an average man. Dark hair, dark beard, slim; nothing stood out about him. His face held no malice or anger or ill will. When he hesitantly took a step forward slowly, she stumbled a step back, though nothing about his posture seemed threatening. In fact, despite his slow movement, he seemed quite relaxed.

"Good day, Madame," he called, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I did not mean to startle you. I was only hoping you might be of service to me."

He seemed friendly enough. Though part of Christine still wanted to run, just to be safe, the other part was concerned as to what he needed. As he came closer, Christine watched him warily, still too guarded to speak.

"Forgive me," he said in a way that one might address a scared child, his dark eyes assessing her. "I am only looking for…someone, and then I came upon you. Maybe you can help me?"

He seemed genuinely concerned that he had frightened her, and Christine finally found the courage to reply. "I am n-not sure I can, Monsieur," she said with as much firmness as she could muster. "I know of no one around here besides my husband and myself. Who is it you are looking for?"

He stopped when he was still a few yards away from her, his head cocking to the side as he looked at her. "A young woman. A Miss Christine Daaé," he watched her carefully as he said her name from before she had married. "Have you heard of her?"

Christine's stomach gave a nervous twist, and her heart pounded erratically. _Oh no. One of Raoul's men!_ She prayed that her face remained neutral. "I have not," she said curtly, hoping he would not notice how her voice shook.

"How unfortunate… Oh, pardon my rudeness. Allow me to introduce myself." He bowed like a gentlemen. "I am Paul. Paul Clément."

She could not tell if his friendliness was a farce or not, and she saw how he waited expectantly for her introduction as well. "Pleased to meet you, Monsieur," she said politely. "I am…Madame Barre. Adele Barre." She gave her housekeeper's name, the first that came to mind, as she curtsied.

Just then, a strong gust of wind came about and flew through the trees, rusting the leaves on the ground and blowing Christine's hood back, exposing her head.

The man, Paul, gave a knowing look when he saw those unmistakable brown curls. "Funny," he murmured. "For you match Miss Daaé's description perfectly."

 _Oh no. Oh God!_

Christine ignored his comment, her heart fluttering like a bird's. "Forgive me Monsieur, my husband is waiting for me. I must be getting back to my home." She turned to leave, and to her horror, two strong hands clamped down on her shoulders, and she gasped in shock and fear.

"Oh, no you do not Christine," Paul said, sounding a little amused. "You are coming with me. I know of someone who will be very pleased to see you."

Christine turned to the man, tears already welling in her eyes. "Please, you have to let me be," she begged, and she watched his eyebrows come together in confusion. "I do not love Raoul anymore. That is whom you are working for, yes? The Vicomte de Chagny?"

After a long pause, Paul nodded.

"I just want to be with my husband in peace. I love him, my husband. And we just want to be left alone to live our lives together. Please, do not do this…" a sob broke through her chest. "You cannot do this!"

Paul looked torn, as if her tears had an affect on him. He seemed to deliberate for a moment, and then huffed out a breath in frustration. When he spoke, his voice was regretful. "I am only doing my job, Madame. Now, come. Do not make this harder than it has to be, I beg of you."

He tried to take her hand, but she was already running. What else could she do? Christine ran as fast as she could, careful to run in the direction _away_ from their house. There was no way she would lead Paul there to wait for Erik, but maybe she could evade Paul and get home safely whenever she lost him.

That thought was trumped immediately when strong arms restrained her waist and she felt heavy breathing on her neck. Christine screamed and screamed, hopeless tears streaming down her face as she fought and kicked and scratched, and finally, Paul's pained voice sounded in her ear. "I did not want to have to do this, but you asked for it, Miss."

Before Christine could comprehend what he was saying, what he meant, he pressed a dirty cloth to her nose and mouth. An unfamiliar, strange, strong scent invaded her senses, and she could feel her body grow weak as little black dots blocked her vision.

The last thing she could do before she was unconscious was whisper her husband's name.


	26. Chapter 26

**The climax approaches! Any guesses on what will happen? Let me know by leaving me a review. ;) Thank you for reading.**

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Chapter 26

Christine felt positively ghastly when she finally came to. The only things she could focus on as she roused into consciousness were the awful queasiness she felt, her pounding head, and her aching body, that happened to be lying on something very soft. Soon, however, the shock of those things wore off and the memory of what happened, and where she must be now, registered in her mind. The realization only made her feel sicker.

Opening her eyes slowly, her aching head protested, and she emitted a pained, feared whimper. She found that she had been laid down on some extravagant, four-poster bed that was dreadfully unfamiliar, and she sat up warily, slowly. Her eyes darted around the room that she was in, large, unfamiliar, and like the bed, extravagant, but thankfully empty of anyone else but her.

Still, Christine had no doubt in her mind where she was: a bedroom in The de Chagny's estate, and the nausea only got _worse_ at that discovery. She had a strong feeling that she was going to vomit.

And then, the bedroom door opened, and Paul entered the room with a bucket, closing the door behind him. The sight of him and the memories he brought only intensified Christine's urge to get sick, and she clamped a quick hand over her mouth, gagging.

Without a word, Paul handed her the cold metal object and stepped back, an apologetic look on his face. Right on cue, Christine vomited into it, mortified that she had an audience as she did so, and wondering how Paul had known she would need to. She moaned miserably once her stomach was emptied and she could breath again.

"My apologies," Paul said when she finally pulled her face out of the bucket. "One of the unavoidable side effects of the ether, I am afraid."

 _Ether? Oh, what he must have used to render me unconscious,_ she thought. Christine glared at him with accusing eyes that were red rimmed and wet, and she wordlessly handed him the bucket when he reached for it, blushing in embarrassment despite herself.

"I will see to it that you receive something to settle your stomach," he said quickly over his shoulder as he strode from the room.

The second the door shut behind him she jumped off the bed, ignoring how the movement made her head pound even more fiercely. She raced toward the door, but before she could reach it, a tugging at her ankle caused her to trip, and she landed on her hands and knees with a pained hiss. _What…?_ She examined her ankle and was shocked to find that it was incased in a chain, connected to the bed. "No!" she gasped in horror.

She was not sure whether she felt more angry or mortified at the moment, but either way, hot tears pooled in her eyes and fell down her cheeks. With reluctance, she made her way back to the bed and sat at the edge helplessly, facing the window. The skies were still gloomy and grey, but even darker now, and she suspected that it would rain. Would Erik make it home before it did?

 _Erik._

Christine burst into sobs, her hand covering the cries that she could not control coming from her mouth. Her husband would return home, only to find that she was gone, and God, he was going to be furious. Her heart broke as she imagined how angry and worried he would be, how he would think only the worst. She wanted nothing more than to be there to calm him, reassure him that she was okay, that she would never leave his side.

Obviously, that was impossible.

It took a while and countless deep breaths, but her tears were somewhat under control when Paul returned with a mousy servant girl. She had set a tray on the bench at the foot of the bed and left without a glance in Christine's direction, rousing her suspicion. Ah, so did everyone in the house know what was going on?

When Paul saw her tear-streaked face and puffy eyes, he immediately looked shamed and unsure. His obvious discomfort at the situation filled Christine with a vague hope that maybe he was not a bad man after all, and maybe he would even help her.

"The Vicomte is on his way," he finally stated nervously. "He knows you have been found, and is racing home to see you." He said the last part like it was a _good_ thing.

Christine's stomach twisted with dread. "Please, Monsieur Clément," she begged, moving from the bed to stand before him. "You _have_ to let me go before he gets back. I am afraid of what he will do to me." She said the last sentence slowly, emphasizing each word.

He looked baffled as he looked down at her. "Miss Daaé, I am sure he would not hurt you in any way," Paul tried to assure her, but she was already shaking her head.

"Then you do not know him like I do!" she cried. "The last time we spoke face to face, he…he was unstable and terrifying. He grabbed me, Monsieur! And that is not the worst that he tried to do." Her voice broke on the last word, and she pressed her lips together to hold back a frightened sob.

Paul stared at her with disbelieving eyes, his hands rising in a calming gesture. "Now now, settle down, Miss. Just eat your bread, drink your tea, and you will feel much better. Everything will be fine."

The way he said those things, like he was addressing a small child, made her think that he thought her mad. Perhaps Raoul had already told all of his search team that she was. If that were the case, Paul obviously would not believe anything she told him.

She sighed in defeat, tears falling down her cheeks, and obeyed him only because she was famished and would never deprive herself for her child's sake.

Paul sat in a chair beside the fireplace across the room from Christine, watching her. Christine had not notice that he stayed at first, devouring her bread and gulping her tea, thankful to chase away the awful taste of bile from her mouth. But when Paul had coughed, her head snapped up and saw that he was still in the room.

"Why are you still here?" she asked hotly.

"I am supposed to make sure you do not try anything…funny."

Christine raised an eyebrow at that. "I can hardly try and escape. I am chained to the bed." She lifted her imprisoned ankle for evidence.

"I can see that," he scoffed. "But I am…supposed to make sure you do not try and, ah, hurt yourself."

"Hurt myself?" she repeated, exasperated. On instinct, one of her hands came to rest on her belly. "Why on earth would I do that?"

Before Paul could answer, the bedroom door swung open, banging against the wall in a way that made Christine jump. Paul stood quickly from his chair, and Christine was horrified to see the reason why.

Raoul stood in the doorway, looking much healthier than he did the last time she had seen him. He still looked thin, but not as tired, his eyes—though still wild and piercing—a bit clearer, and his posture perfect. He had not been drinking, it seemed. Well, perhaps he just was not drunk at the moment. He first stared at Christine, unsmiling, but something about his face screamed satisfaction. It made her stomach roll once again.

And then he turned to Paul. "Ah, Paul ol boy!" Raoul greeted the man with a firm handshake and a grin. "I knew you would come through for me. Your payment is waiting for you downstairs, and you must stay to celebrate. But for now, I would like a word with Miss Daaé alone."

She almost wanted to correct him by saying that it was actually "Madame Destler", but she refrained for Erik's safety, of course.

Christine stood warily, hoping her face did not give away her fear, and that she appeared brave. Paul gave her one last unsure glace and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Silence.

Raoul stood tall a few yards away, and Christine was frozen where she stood near the window. They just glared at each other for a while, neither of them really knowing what to say. Christine was visibly angry; fists clenched at her side and chin raised defensively, but there was still fear in her eyes, she was sure. She trembled slightly.

Finally, the silence became unbearable and Christine finally spoke. "Bravo, Monsieur le Vicomte," she said bitterly, giving him the chance to respond but continuing when he did not. "You have successfully kidnapped me. Now what? You expect me to just forget everything and fall back in love with you?" She laughed once without humor, hoping he did not notice how her voice shook. "I hope that is not what you expect, because you will indeed be disappointed."

His eyes narrowed further. "It worked for _him,_ did it not?" Raoul spat. "Obviously being your perfect match in every day did not work, so I thought I would try it his way. You are mine now, Christine. Whether you like it or not."

"I will never be yours," she said slowly. "I am _his,_ whether you like it or not!"

Raoul's jaw clenched, and she could see that her words were only making things worse. She internally chided herself, swallowing as he took a step closer.

"Careful, Christine," he warned. "Everyone already suspects that you are insane, and all it will take is one order from me to get you committed to the asylum."

Christine sucked in a gust of air; his words making her feel sick again.

He continued coldly, taking another step forward. "Do you know how poorly the asylum treats their patients? It had been said that if one were admitted without actually being insane, just being there alone is enough to drive one into complete madness. Now, is that what you want, Christine?"

She ignored his question, and also tried to ignore the fact that he was now standing right in front of her. "He will come for me," she stated simply. "Surely you know that."

Raoul nodded. "Oh, of course he will! And when he does, he will be caught and taken to rot in prison where he belongs. And I will have you all to myself." He eyed her possessively, reaching one of his hands up to stroke her hair.

She flinched away from his touch. "Raoul," Christine warned seriously. "He will _kill you_. What makes you think you will be able to capture him?"

"I have enough men," he said confidently, though his teeth were slightly clenched in frustration. "He will be no match for all of us."

Christine sighed, the sight of this angry, bitter man suddenly overwhelming her with sadness. He was so different from the charming, warm boy she once knew, and she realized it was all her fault that he had changed. "Oh, Raoul," she whispered, her eyes swimming with moisture, looking directly into his. "Who are you?" She could see in his eyes that he understood what she meant, but he held fast to his defensive expression, saying nothing. "You are not the same man I once knew. I…I suppose I am the one to blame for that. But can't you see what you are doing is just _wrong_?"

"What _he_ did was wrong!" Raoul suddenly shouted, making her jump back. "He _stole_ you from me, took you away from _me_! You were mine, Christine." His voice broke on her name, and his own eyes were wet now. He reached up to touch her hair again. This time, she let him, and he continued in a mere whisper, "But…I am still me. I still love you more than anything."

Christine shook her head, the tears spilling over, but before she could say anything he spoke again in a rush. "I know you are thinking about the last time, and I am deeply sorry for…the way I behaved. I was out of my mind that night, truly. But I have been doing better! I have not been drinking near as much as I was. For you, Christine." Raoul took her hands, and his wild grey eyes were pleading into hers. "I swear it will all be like it was before. We will be happy."

His sudden change in demeanor was almost disorienting. Though his words did seem genuine, she knew that there was no way she could be happy with him. Her heart belonged only to Erik, and his child in her womb. Nothing else mattered.

Still, she was not sure what she should say to Raoul now. Of course she would not tell him that she was pregnant. There was no telling how he would react, and she had to protect herself and her baby. So what should she do? Play along?

Chewing on her lip, Christine sniffled and removed her hands from his to wipe her wet cheeks. "We shall see," she mumbled, not meeting his eyes. "Will…will you unchain me? I promise not to run. I am sure there are those who would catch me if I tried, anyway."

"I was not planning on keeping you chained long. Just until I got here." He bent down as he spoke, taking a key out of his coat pocket and freeing her ankle. "There you are." Raoul seemed cheered at her compliant attitude, even though she was obviously unhappy. "The washroom is through that door," he pointed to the door in the northern corner of the room. She merely nodded, staring at the floor. "I do not…suppose you would join me for dinner?"

Her first instinct was to glare at him for the idiotic question, but she refrained and just shook her head. "I just…need to be alone for a while, Raoul."

"Right," he sighed, disappointed. "I will have a servant bring you your meal, then. And someone will always be right outside your door in case you try anything. But you will be a good girl, yes?" He lifted her chin gently with one hand, smiling softly at her.

"Yes," she whispered, defeated.

He nodded once, picked up one of her hands, and placed a swift kiss on her knuckles. "I love you, Little Lotte," he whispered, and then turned and strode from the room.

Christine vaguely heard him converse with whoever it was guarding her door, but she did not have the energy or emotional capacity to listen. She could feel the overwhelming grief creeping up to her heart, and she did not try and fight it. She only glanced out the window, saw that it had started to rain, and put her face in her hands and wept.


	27. Chapter 27

**How will Erik react to Christine being gone? How will Christine fare with no one to save her from Raoul's advances? :O _*ominous voice* Read on to find out. Muahahaha._**

 **Don't forget to review. ;)**

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Chapter 27

Erik was mildly annoyed with the rain as he finished putting Caesar away in the stable. What had just been little sprinkling droplets during his ride home had finally turned to a heavy wash that he could hear splashing violently against the tin roof. Now he would have to run with all of the items he had picked up from today's errands back to the house to avoid getting them and himself soaked completely.

At least then he would see his beloved wife that much sooner, he supposed. He could not wait to greet his Christine after a long day of being separated. Her magnetic pull had only intensified after all this time, and a single day apart seemed like many.

Erik hastily made his way back to the house through the rain, coming in through the back door. He was discomforted at the fact that it was unlocked, and he scowled as he removed his now wet hat and cloak. _That girl,_ he thought, shaking his head. He would have to scold her for her carelessness.

He put away the items he brought home quickly, and then made his way to the sitting room. "Christine," he called loudly, sternly, wanting to make it clear that she was in trouble. He secretly enjoyed how she usually tried to charm her way out of his anger, pouting her pink lips or batting her dark lashes, which is why he faked it often. But not now, when it had to do with her safety. He really was bothered.

She did not respond or come running in like he had expected, which made him think she was napping somewhere. Poor girl was always tired these days; especially the more their baby grew. He knew it would be difficult to chide her if he found her sleeping peacefully, but he still looked for her.

Christine obviously was not in the sitting room where he could see, so he checked the music room, finding it dark and empty as he suspected he would. She usually preferred to be in a room with windows and natural light, and that room had none. He made his way upstairs, thinking perhaps she had napped in her actual bed, for once.

Erik froze when he entered her room and found it empty as well, bed made, curtains open. His fists clenched as that all too familiar, angry dread began to creep into his veins, and it took him a long moment before springing into action. He re-searched the entire house with urgency; feeling more and more enraged each second that he could not find her.

"Christine," he growled, and of course there was no answer.

She must have left the house. Perhaps for a walk? Would she really go outside after he specifically demanded her not to? And dared not return before the skies got darker?

Oh, he was furious now.

Quivering with rage, he ran back out into the downpour and into the stable, quickly readying Caesar to ride once again. The horse whinnied in annoyance, and Erik had to shout at the stubborn creature to _take him to Christine,_ as if the animal had any idea where she was. He rode into the now dark forest and searched all around, his anger being accompanied with panic after a while. She was still nowhere to be found. He yelled her name every so often, but still there was no sign, no hint, no sweet voice answering him.

Erik thought he might lose his mind.

And then, Caesar slowed to sniff at something on the ground. Erik jumped off when the horse came to a stand still to inspect, finding a familiar basket. He realized it was just the same as the one they kept in their very kitchen. It had been filled with berries and tipped over on the ground, dropped in some sort of haste.

Erik fit the pieces together in his mind, and his vision began to blur. "That stupid, stupid girl!" he roared, shaking as he came to the only conclusion possible.

Christine had been captured.

Immediately, he sprung into action once again.

 _Must see Giry,_ he thought as he mounted the black stallion again. There was no time to waste. He would find out where that _insolent boy_ lived and get his wife back before anything bad could happen to her. Erik returned to the house first, needing to pick up one item before leaving.

He stumbled to a pause on the way to the music room, as he could not help but notice the new arrangement of flowers on the table that were not there that very morning. Christine must have picked them earlier that day, which meant she had left the house not once, but _twice._

His vision hazy and red, Erik let out a wordless, bellowing cry and threw the vase against the wall with a force that smashed it into a million pieces before even realizing what he was doing. Gasping, he fell into a chair, putting his head in his hands. He had not been this angry since he found that wretched letter from the very _boy_ that was the cause of all of this.

Still, this was different. His Christine was in danger, and probably frightened. And here Erik was, throwing a fit and wasting time. _Stupid man!_

With a grunt, he got up and rushed to the music room in search of what he needed. Knowing exactly where he hid it, it was only a few seconds later that he held it in his hand.

The Punjab lasso.

Holding the rope once again filled him with the power he remembered from his days as the Phantom. With this, he would have total control of his enemies' lives. With this, he would end the lives of all of the men involved in this sick plot. He did not care that Christine might hate him for it. At least she would be safe.

Erik rode as fast as Caesar could go toward Madame Giry's house, uncaring that it was now pitch dark out, uncaring that it was still pouring rain. He had but one thought on his mind as he rode: _The Vicomte will pay._

* * *

After crying out all of her tears, Christine laid on her side on the bed, staring out the rain-splattered window. It was now very dark outside, the moon and stars covered by a thick layer of clouds. It must have been at least a couple hours that she laid there, drifting in and out of an uncomfortable nap, Erik on her racing mind all the while.

Christine knew that someone would be up soon to bring her dinner and should probably turn on some light, but she did not care enough to move. Sometimes, she would hear vague voices outside her bedroom door, only a reminder that she was trapped. There was no way she could escape, and she knew it. All she could do now was worry, and wait for Erik to come.

When the door finally creaked open, Christine jumped a little, sitting up. An older servant woman with an authoritative air to her entered the dark room, the light from the hallway allowing Christine to study her. She set a large, covered tray down on the end table and then turned to flick on the gas lamp attached to the wall.

Peeking out the open door, Christine saw an unfamiliar man sitting in a chair, alert. Of course, someone would always be there, guarding the door as Raoul had promised. Her throat tightened.

 _Oh Erik, please hurry._

"Eat," the woman suddenly demanded, breaking Christine from her thoughts. She had a rude, unpleasant voice. "I will return with bed clothes. Until then, I suggest you clean yourself up. You are a mess."

With that, the woman left and slammed the door behind her. Christine might have been shocked at her unfriendliness, but she really did not have enough energy to care. She ate the food left for her, not really tasting it, still staring at the window. With the light now in the room though, it casted a reflection, and she studied her tear-swollen eyes, her messy hair, her miserable expression.

She _was_ a mess.

Still feeling awful both emotionally and physically from the events of the day, Christine thought maybe cleaning up would do her some good. She did so mechanically in the adjoining washroom, only realizing she was freezing when the cold water from the sink caused her to shiver violently. Still, she washed herself the best she could with a dampened cloth, vaguely hoping that there were supplies for a fire in her room. There was no way she would run herself a warm bath. Not here.

As Christine dried herself off, a knock sounded at the washroom door. "Clothes," the same woman from before said, still unfriendly. "I will leave them on the floor." Before Christine could say anything, she heard the bedroom door shut with the woman leaving.

She was much too numb to be offended.

Cracking the door open just enough to grab the clothes left for her, she dressed quickly in the washroom. She did not feel at all secure enough to dress in the bedroom, knowing that anyone could walk in at any time, and that there was an unfamiliar man just outside. The clean undergarments and nightgown were a tad on the tight side when it came to her growing stomach, so she was thankful that there was also a thick dressing robe to conceal it better. After unpinning her hair and yanking a brush through her curls, she was ready to make a fire and crawl into bed.

Once back in the bedroom, she found that there was not any wood in the holder by the fireplace. She sighed and shivered again, and was about to just get into bed anyway when there was another knock at the door.

"Christine?" It was Raoul's voice. "Are you still awake?"

She did not answer, hoping he would think she was asleep and just go away.

To her dismay, the door creaked open, and Raoul saw her standing there by the fireplace. She clutched her robe a little tighter around her, not saying anything. "You are cold," he noted. "I will return with firewood."

She wished he would just leave her alone. Obviously, he never would. He made that very clear.

Christine sat on the bed and stared at her reflection again. Cleaning up did make her look a little better, but she still felt awful. She was exhausted, in her former fiancé's home, missing her husband who was probably mad with rage _and_ scared to death, though he would never admit to the latter.

Though Raoul had told her he was different now, Christine knew she could not trust him still. From what she had heard, alcohol was not an easy thing to give up once it had you.

On that thought, Raoul returned and immediately set to making a fire, glancing at Christine every few seconds strangely. She stood warily; too nervous to remain seated, and watched in silence as he worked. After a while, there was a fire warming the room, and it reminded her of how Erik always ensured she would be warm throughout the night, every night.

The thought of him made her ache, and she fought back tears. Had they been together just that morning? It seemed as if they had been parted for much longer. Questions swirled around her mind: When would they be reunited? Was he on his way yet? Oh God…what would he do once he got here?

Christine's stomach twisted with dread as she realized what Erik would probably do.

 _Kill._

Not only Raoul, but also likely anyone else who dared to stand in his way. Christine chewed on her lip as she looked at Raoul now, thinking hard. Though he did take her, separate her from her love; the father of her child…did that mean he deserved to die?

The answer was simple. No, it did not. But would she be able to stop Erik?

Raoul's low voice interrupted her internal struggle. "Something has changed about you."

Her head snapped to attention, and she realized with dread that he had moved closer. "I am not sure what it is. Your…skin, perhaps? It is radiant."

Radiant? She was sure she looked just as awful as she felt.

Raoul continued moving forward until he stood right before her, and she noticed immediately that something about him seemed a little strange. Off. His hair and clothes were slightly disheveled, his step clumsy.

"And, do not take this the wrong way Christine, but I believe you have put on weight." His stormy eyes were hungry as they raked up and down her body, and then he deliberately licked his lips. "It suits you, very well."

Christine's hands shook as she realized how glassy and bloodshot his eyes were. And now that he was so close, she could smell the unmistakable stench of alcohol through his parted lips. Her eyes narrowed, and she scowled at him, but there was definitely fear in her eyes. "I thought you were not drinking anymore," she accused, backing away slowly.

To her horror, he followed.

He laughed sheepishly. "Well, I said I was drinking _less,_ " he reminded her. "But tonight, I just had to celebrate a little. _You_ are here, after all." He had backed her into a corner, and he leaned close to sniff her hair. A low groan followed, and Christine was frozen, save for the slight tremble of her hands. "You smell so good. And you are so beautiful, Christine." His hands first brushed, and then clutched her upper arms in desperation. "I am afraid I am unable to keep myself from you tonight. You are much, much too tempting."

He tried to bury his face into the crook of her neck, but she shoved him off of her with all the strength she could muster. He stumbled a few steps back drunkenly. "I would keep your hands off of me if I were you, Monsieur," she warned, hating how her voice shook. "I am a married woman."

"Not anymore, Christine. You are mine." He seemed very calm, not at all apologetic like before, which terrified her even more. He obviously knew what he was doing.

And she knew what she would have to do now.

"Raoul," she began after a deep breath, much steadier than before. "Does it not bother you knowing that the very man you despise has already claimed my virtue?" How she got the words out without stuttering, she had no idea. Raoul's jaw clenched, but he did not reply, and so she continued. "Does it not bother you that I willingly went to bed with _him_ countless times, when I want no part of you at all?"

His expression darkened, but she could see how he tried his best to hide it. "No," he murmured. "That does not bother me."

"You are lying, Raoul! You do not want me anymore. You want the pure, untouched, innocent girl from the Opera Populaire. But I am sorry; she does not exist anymore!"

"See," he said with a slight shake of his head, "That is where you are wrong." He paused for a very long time, watching her, and the look in his eyes made her stomach curl. When he finally spoke again, his voice was thick with desire. "I want you more than I ever have, Christine. I see that there has been a change in you, and I…I like it, very much. Yes, the fact that…that _monster_ of a man is the reason behind the change makes me sick, but I will not let that deter me. I must have you. I am the one who deserves you."

Christine had been frozen with shock when Raoul sprung forward in a desperate haze, grabbing her arms and planting them against the wall. His lips were brushing her neck, and she let him, her mind spinning. What could she do?

"I know I will be able to please you," Raoul moaned between kisses. "Please, _please_ let me please you, Christine."

"Stop," she finally said, unable to take it any longer, but he would not. She fought him, of course, but he was strong and determined. She remained planted against the wall, helpless to his assault of unwelcome kisses on her skin.

There was only one thing she could think to do.

"I am bearing his child!"

Raoul was off of her in an instant, as if she had electrocuted him. Before he could question her, she threw off her robe and stood to the side so that he could see the defined bump on her abdomen through her thin nightgown. She cradled it with her hands, emphasizing the swell. Raoul looked like he was going to be sick. Different emotions flickered across his face: shock, pain, sadness, anger, and then, finally…disgust. His face twisted as if he found her repulsive, and he stumbled from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Christine held her breath, listening. His footsteps got quieter, disappeared altogether, and then there was nothing but silence. She was so relieved that she sobbed, and sunk to the floor right there in the corner. She caressed her belly and cried harder when she felt a little nudge from the inside.

The weight of what had been about to happen was not lost to her, but this time there had been no one to save her. The fact that she stopped it all on her own was a miracle, and she thanked God over and over.

Once her tears calmed, she ran to the door and locked it quick, praying that she would be left alone for the rest of the night. She turned off the light and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. Now, she could sleep. And perhaps her Erik would come for her as she did.


	28. Chapter 28

**Welp, this chapter went NOTHING like I had originally planned. Sometimes, your own writing can surprise you, haha. Warning for Raoul lovers out there. He is not very nice in this chapter, but keep in mind that he is pretty much insane by this point. :/**

 **Thank you so much for reading, and please review.**

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Chapter 28

Christine woke with a start, only vaguely remembering where she was. She could not recall her dream, so she was unsure of what had snapped her into consciousness, whether it had been a nightmare or some other noise. The room was still very warm from the remainder of the fire, and she was sweltering under the thick quilts. She threw them off, standing up to put her feverish cheek to the cool glass of the window.

She sighed into the glass, the coldness of it feeling wonderful against her heated skin. After a moment, she pulled back and looked out the window with tired eyes that were still filled with sleep. It was still nighttime. The rain clouds from before had waned a bit, allowing her to see some stars where there were breaks. She suspected that dawn was still hours away.

And then, her stomach growled, and she wondered if the guard outside would bring her something to eat if she asked. Pulling on her robe as she went, she padded barefoot to the door, unlocking it and opening it quietly.

Though the house seemed still with the late night, there was still a sort of strange energy about it. Christine could not hear anything but her own breaths and the deep, steady breathing of a man guarding her door. It was dark in the hallway, but her eyes had adjusted so she could see that the man's eyes were closed, his head slack against the wall.

He was asleep.

Holding her breath, she exited the bedroom, not even daring to close the door behind her lest she wake the man. The slightest sound could give her away. She slowly and silently tiptoed away from the room and the man, feeling more at ease the farther she got. He had not budged an inch. Some guard he was!

Christine roamed the halls slowly, warily trekking through the darkness. When she came across the grand staircase, she took each step down with care, looking around for anything that might make noise, or anyone that may be watching for her. Oddly, though she had just awoken in the middle of the night, she felt wide-awake. Alert. As if there was something she needed to be on edge about.

Well, she was being held against her will, after all.

She had been to the de Chagny estate before, long ago, when she had been engaged to Raoul. She was familiar the first floor rather well, and could maneuver the halls in the dark without issue. She avoided the northern quarter, knowing that was where the front door was located with, no doubt, men guarding it. She knew it would not be very smart to try and escape this early on.

All she needed was a quick snack, and then she would go back to bed.

The kitchen was found easily, and she lit a single light on a dim level, the slight hiss of the gas making her think she was not alone for a moment. However, the kitchen was empty. Being as quiet as she could, she lurked around the kitchen until she found the leftovers from that night's dinner. She ate some of the cooked potatoes that had long gone cold. They were not very appetizing, but she knew the starchiness of the vegetable would fill her up. To her delight, there was also some cakes left from dessert, and she had a few, washing them down with some milk. If she were going to be held captive, she would eat whatever she pleased and not think twice about it. Besides, it was not as if a little leftover food would be missed in this mansion.

When she finished, she put everything back the way she found it, shutting off the light before leaving the kitchen. With her belly full, her eyes felt heavier already, and she felt ready to sleep once again. As she sleepily walked through the halls, she heard a quiet thud from somewhere, but before she could focus on it, however, the sound of murmured voices registered in her ears. She followed the voices, finding they came from somewhere down the western hall, past the main sitting room and library.

Christine would have left it alone and gone back upstairs, but Raoul's voice was one she recognized, and she was curious as to whom he was talking with this late, and what he was talking about.

He had seemed so disgusted with her after she admitted she was pregnant, and a part of her hoped he would let her go, but the more logical part of her knew he would not give up so easily.

Her stomach twisted with the possibilities of what might happen to her now.

Silently making her way down that hall toward the voices, she saw some light emitting from a cracked open door. Christine stopped a couple yards away, leaning against the wall and listening.

"…do not understand why you would even _consider_ that. It is not right. It is just...awful, de Chagny." She vaguely recognized Monsieur Clément's, Paul's, voice in a low murmur.

"What else could be done, Clément?" Raoul growled back.

Paul shushed him, for Raoul had gotten too loud. There was a long pause, and then Raoul's voice was much lower as he spoke again. "Just the…the _thought_ of Christine carrying some demon spawn from that disgusting beast makes me want to…!" He let the sentence trail off.

Anger flared hotly in Christine's veins, and her fists clenched at her side. How dare he refer to her baby that way! To her _Erik's_ baby that way! God, she could scarcely believe how awful he was now!

And if she did not hate him before, his next words sealed his fate.

She heard a heavy sigh, and Raoul continued. "I know, I know. It would be much too dangerous for her, anyway. I have heard some women die, and some can never bear children again even if they do survive. Also I do not know of any doctor who would be willing to do it, even if I did offer them a large sum."

Her now shaking hand came to her gaping mouth in horror. He could not _really_ be talking about…?

" _That is all_ you are worried about?" Paul asked, bewildered. "You are not worried about the inhumanness of the act? Of the emotional toll it would have on her? I mean, really, what the hell, de Chagny!?"

Raoul seemed to ignore him, talking to himself. "I cannot raise it. I cannot love it. It is not _mine_. It is that…monster's! The very _man_ I hate. So what, then?"

There was a long silence as he thought, and Christine's heart pounded, her whole body trembling with hate and fear and anger and hurt. She wanted nothing more than to scream in his face, to hit him, to make him feel pain.

The Raoul she used to know was long gone.

"I have got it!" Raoul exclaimed, and there was a slight _bang_ afterward, as if he hit his fist on a table. "She has the _thing_ , we render her unconscious, and drop it off at an orphanage. And then when she wakes, we regretfully inform her that the child did not make it." A moment of silence, and then, "It is genius!"

Christine nearly screamed right then, but she choked on it. Her head swam and her vision blurred, and she was afraid she might faint. She barely registered Paul's shocked reply, as if she heard it from under water. "I…Raoul, sir, this is madness. I do not want any more part in this. I should not have helped capture her in the first place! She is not the insane one, de Chagny. I am afraid it is you!"

Christine only heard the first of Raoul's defensive rebuttal before she ran away on her toes; quiet sobs ripping through her chest as she went. He had planned to—she winced as the thought came out, refraining from gagging— _kill_ her baby! And when he realized that would not suit him, he would just give it away! And make her believe it _died!_

She ran up the stairs, gasping and crying, and paused when she found the man who had been guarding her door lying on the floor in a strange position. Her heart stopped for a moment, as she could not tell if he was breathing or not. Was he…?

Her building scream did not even have the chance to surface before one gloved hand clamped her nose and mouth, and another arm ensnared her waist in an iron grip. If she had not been in such an emotional state, she might have known immediately whom those hands belonged to, might have felt that person's presence the second she was near him. But she was on the verge of a breakdown, and she was so startled by those hands that she fought them.

The hand muted Christine's cries, and despite her efforts his hold on her never broke. He pulled her into the bedroom with ease, and she heard the door shut behind them. How…?

Too overwhelmed and exhausted to keep fighting, she slumped a bit against the strong form, whimpering.

"Are you quite done, _my dear_?" the musical voice growled quietly, and he shrugged away from her immediately. She gasped and spun to face him, her frightened tears turning to sobs of relief as she saw the glow of his porcelain mask in the dark.

"Erik!" she gasped. "Oh, Erik!" She slammed into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and drinking in his familiar, spicy masculine scent, instantly comforted. _He is here! Erik is here!_ They had not even been separated for a full day, and still it felt as if she had not held him in so long.

It took a moment before Christine realized that he was motionless as stone before her, not returning her embrace in the slightest. Hesitantly, she pulled away and looked up at his face, hating how his jaw was clenched and his lips were pressed in a hard line.

"You are angry," she whispered.

A low growl came from deep in his chest and he stalked forward, causing her to back up.

"Oh, I am _way_ passed mere anger, Christine." His voice was icy and menacing, and she swallowed, wondering how her husband could still intimidate her, even after all this time. He continued forward until her back pressed against the wall. "My wife was captured by a stupid, insolent _boy_ that I despise, all because _she_ did not obey my simple request that she stay indoors." Erik's hands planted on the wall on either side of her head so quick that it made her jump. "Was it too much to ask, Christine?" Even in the dim room, she could see how his eyes blazed, how his wig was slightly rumpled and his clothing disheveled. He looked like he was going to lose his mind. "Was it really such a hard demand to follow?"

"A-are we really doing this right now, Eri—" she tried to ask, voice shaking, but one of his gloved hands clamped her mouth shut again.

"I do not want to hear it!" he snapped.

Christine felt a distressed flutter in her belly, and she rubbed a hand over it. _It is all right,_ she thought toward the bump. Her free hand came up and caressed the unmasked side of Erik's face. He did not respond at first, but then he leaned slightly into her touch desperately, as if he could not help it, removing his hand from her mouth and shutting his eyes. He sighed then, and as he did the anger seemed to ease, just a little.

"I know, Erik," she murmured, smiling apologetically through her tears. "I am wretched and stupid. I know. I am so sorry. I love you."

A low whine sounded in the back of his throat, and he surged forward until their mouths met in a desperate kiss. He was not gentle. His hands fisted in her hair and he kissed her hard and long, and she adored every second of it. If they were not where they were at the moment, she might have had him take her right then. But no, that would not be smart, given the circumstances.

Erik finally pulled away once they were both gasping for breath, soft leather caressing her face, her hair. "Are you all right?" he asked breathlessly. "Are you hurt? Did _he_ touch you?"

Christine could have lied and said she was fine, but she truly was not all right. She had been stolen from her husband. She had been promised by Raoul that he was different, and then mere hours later he had tried to force himself on her _again_. No, she was far from all right. Not after this day. Not after what she had heard Raoul saying about her baby, what he planned to do. It was all too much, too awful.

What could she do but cry harder? The events of the entire evening were too much for her to handle, and she could still feel the mental and physical exhaustion despite the excitement she also felt from Erik being there. She buried her face in his chest and cried, and this time he hugged her to him tightly.

And then, she remembered the man who had been guarding her room. She gasped, looking at Erik's face. "The man just outside the door," she whispered, eyes wide. "Is he…did you…?"

"Shh," he stroked her face. "He is simply unconscious. As are the men I encountered outside, as are the men at the front door. None of them saw me, I made sure of it. They will wake and have no idea what happened." His words made her sigh in relief. "I could not do it, Christine. I could not kill them."

She pressed her lips to his again urgently, thankful that he did not kill. Oh, how she loved him! "How did you know this was my room?" she wondered between kisses, clutching at the lapels of his coat and pulling him flush against her.

"I saw you standing at the window," he rasped, his hands splayed across her back. "And then you left the room…" He pulled back, eyes questioning.

"I got hungry," she explained, and she loved how his expression warmed, and a hint of a smile played at his lips. Perhaps he would forgive her after all.

"I should have known, I suppose," he whispered, palming one of her cheeks sweetly. She covered his gloved hand with her own and smiled.

"What now, Erik?" she breathed, her smile faltering. "What are we going to do?"

He did not answer, and his lips pressed together in a hard line.

"You want to kill him, don't you?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," he admitted, avoiding her eyes.

Christine found it strange how just minutes ago she would have been _happy_ with the thought of Raoul dying. _He_ had thought of killing her baby, and she was so filled with hatred for him that the force of it scared her. But now, as she looked at her husband and rubbed a caressing hand over her stomach, she knew was true, pure happiness was, and she knew that killing would never bring that. Killing was wrong, and Erik should not be subjected to performing that deed ever again.

And Raoul…

Paul's words echoed in Christine's mind. _She is not the insane one, de Chagny. I am afraid it is you!_

He _was_ going mad. He was a complete different man! Yes, he could control his own actions, and he chose to make things worse by drinking. But still, Christine could not help but feel at least a little responsible for the way he had changed so drastically.

Tears flooded her eyes again. Oh, how she was sick of crying.

"I understand, Erik," she said. "I love you, and I can not judge you. But I do not think you should kill him, despite everything." Her voice trembled, and he finally met her eyes. "Raoul is…deeply damaged by all of this. Because of _me,_ and he is not the same man I once knew. He needs help. Not death."

"Christine," Erik groaned quietly, grabbing her shoulders. "How do you expect me to leave him alive? He will only try to take you from me again!"

Erik was right, and Christine knew it. She chewed on her lip for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was sure. "You may not kill him, Erik. That is final."

"We shall see about that, my dear," he growled, and turned expectantly toward the door. He stood tall and confident, and the door swung open, making Christine jump.

Raoul stood in the doorway, a distressed looking Paul close behind him. Christine's heart pounded when she saw what was in Raoul's hand, pointed at her husband.

A revolver.

"I thought I recognized that voice," Raoul said, disgust covering his tone. He was visibly tense, unmistakable hate in his glassy eyes. "Hello, ghost. I knew you would be joining us."


	29. Chapter 29

**We have arrived at the climax, dear readers! This chapter probably has the most significant change from the original, which really needed to be made for Erik and Christine's sake. I hope returning readers don't mind the changes, and that new readers enjoy. (Though enjoy may not be the right word...)**

 **Trigger warning for gun violence in this chapter.**

 **Please review!**

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Chapter 29

Time seemed to stand still for a long, torturous moment.

It was one thing to fear for her own life, but an infinitely different thing to fear for the one she loved desperately. Christine could not take her eyes off the weapon in the Vicomte's shaky hand. Though the gun was small, she knew it could quite possibly end the life of her beloved in an instant, and she would be helpless to save him. The stress of the situation was an enormous weight that threatened to crush her, and she had to fight to refrain from fainting. She felt numbness creep into her veins, and she clung to it like a lifeline, unable to handle the crippling fear that could so easily undo her.

She was only vaguely aware of what was happening when Erik pulled her gently behind him, shielding her with his calm body. Of course _he_ would not be scared at all. He exuded confidence in his tall, powerful stance. He was a cat who had approached its prey, waiting for the exact right moment to strike.

Christine peeked around his arm, still unable to remove her eyes from the gun.

"Monsieur le Vicomte." Erik's voice finally pierced the tense silence. It was light, relaxed, and somehow still terrifying. "I must say you look terrible."

Christine could not help but look to Raoul's face for his reaction, finding him visibly defensive, eyes narrowing and jaw clenching. "That means nothing, coming from _you,_ " he retorted with a sneer.

"Look at you," Erik taunted. "You cannot even stand up straight. And, I daresay, you smell god-awful. You must have drunk an entire case of liquor just this evening."

"Hush!" Raoul shouted his command, tightening his grip on the weapon.

To Christine's dismay, the numbness had not lasted, and a small cry of distress made its way out of her throat without her permission. Raoul turned his hateful gaze to her for a moment, eyes daring her to make another sound. She tried to push forward, but Erik's arm was out in an instant, blocking her.

"Are you really going to _try_ to kill me, dear Vicomte?" Erik asked dryly. "Just when things were getting interesting, too."

"I would like very much to be the one to end your life, ghost. And I will not hesitate to do so if you do not obey my every command." Despite his sure words, Raoul's voice shook, giving away his fear, his un-surety. Erik scoffed, and Raoul went on in annoyance. "However, you need the public execution you deserve, and I will see to it that the gendarme make it happen."

"How about this," Erik's voice had lost its sarcasm, replaced with an icy menace that could only belong to the Phantom. It even made Christine shiver. He took a small step forward, unafraid, and Raoul swallowed. "I will give you a choice. It is simple, really. Either put the gun down and do nothing as my wife and I take our leave, or die."

"I do not think so," Raoul spluttered, face turning red. "I am the one in charge here, and I will kill you if you do not follow my orders!" He cocked the gun then, as if to emphasize his words. Christine knew that Raoul was capable of killing, despite what Erik may think, and her stomach dropped.

Time froze again, but this time, a memory entered Christine's mind.

There was another time, she remembered, when Erik's life could have easily been taken by Raoul's hand. It was a vastly different time, back when she feared Erik and her feelings for him and had no idea what to do about her chaotic life. Raoul had been her comfort then, her light when she was being haunted by darkness. Erik had terrified her, manipulated her, and made her question everything in a way that made her think she would go mad if she did not have the answers.

And yet, she could not bear it when Raoul had held his sword above Erik's heart, ready to kill him without a second thought. She remembered how her stomach had twisted, how tears had pricked at her eyes and how her heart had thundered in her chest. _No, Raoul!_ she had cried. _No. Not like this._

But really…she had not wanted him to die at all, in any way. No matter what, that was her angel, the man who had helped her find her voice and take it to places she thought impossible. Her only comfort for _years_ after her father's death, her protector, her companion, her kindred spirit….

Now, he was so much more than all of that. He was hers just as much as she was his. After a long, painful, and rather confusing journey, they were together and happy and she had no doubt that they were meant to be. Soul mates. She loved him with everything in her, and the thought of losing him now was not only unbearable, but also unimaginable.

Christine watched as Raoul's finger began to pull slightly at the trigger, and all she could think was how she would be unable to continue living in a world without her Erik.

"NO!" Christine's screamed pierced the room with its desperation, and Raoul and Paul both jumped, staring at her in shock. She then began to cry, devastated and frightened and exhausted tears, unable to fight them any longer. Anguished whimpers escaped from her throat, and she knew she likely looked and sounded like a child, but she did not care. She ducked under Erik's arm and stood in front of him, and Raoul's eyes only widened. He immediately lowered the gun.

"Raoul no," she wailed, shaking her head and holding her arms out at her sides. "I l-love him. I want to be with him. P-please." Raoul stared at her with furrowed brows, shocked at her childlike weeping, no doubt.

Erik smoothed his gloved hands against her shoulders in a comforting motion and pressed his lips to her hair. "Shh, it is all right," Erik whispered so softly that only she heard, as he moved her behind him once again. "We will be home by morning, I swear it. Nothing will happen to either of us."

Still, Christine was way passed consoling. She could not help the hot, stressed tears that rained down her cheeks, the sobs that ripped through her chest. Despite Erik's comforting words and touch she remained sobbing, her cries frightening herself and likely each of the men.

"What will it be, Monsieur?" Erik addressed Raoul impatiently, who was still staring wide-eyed at Christine. "Make your choice."

Paul stepped forward, laying a hand on Raoul's shoulder. "Let them go, man," he urged, his gravely voice thick. He had a pitying look on his face as he too stared at Christine. "This is just…wrong."

Raoul was cornered, and he seemed to just be realizing it. His shoulders slumped, his eyes casting down to the floor, and the defeated expression on his face was almost pitiable. Almost. Perhaps he was seeing the error of his ways. Perhaps he was actually giving up. The hope stirred inside of her and she managed to quiet her cries to no more than shuddering breaths, though the wetness would not cease from falling from her eyes.

The Vicomte looked at the gun in his hand, his eyebrows coming together in confusion, as if only just now realizing he was holding it. And then, he finally looked up, and he had obviously made his decision. His bloodshot eyes had tears as he looked at Christine. "You should have let him kill me," he whispered, echoing the words he said to her that night she had made her choice. Her heart stopped as he pointed the gun to Erik once again, and Christine screamed.

"Enough of this," Erik growled, and the rope flew from his hand that Christine had not even realized he was holding. The Punjab lasso landed perfectly around Raoul's neck, and then Erik was before him, tightening it, causing Raoul to emit pained choking noises. Paul leapt forward to confiscate the gun as Raoul tried to keep it aimed toward Erik, rather unsuccessfully, and his face was turning a gruesome shade of purple.

Christine found herself on the very edge of a precipice, and it would take only one tiny thing to push her off. The only way they would get out unscathed is if Raoul met his end, and it terrified her that she could accept that. She watched the three men struggling, her mouth agape and her body swaying. If she fell off that edge, she feared she would never recover, and she searched desperately for the numbness within her, embracing it once more.

Unlike before, when time seemed to stand still, now it seemed to be moving in slow motion, and Christine watched every inch of movement from the scene before her.

She saw how Raoul grimaced each time Erik tightened the rope. She saw how Erik's eyes blazed with his lust to kill, how his teeth were clenched and bared. That image was sure to haunt her for a very long time. She saw how Paul held Raoul's arm away from Erik with one hand and grabbed at the gun with his other hand. She saw how Raoul used every ounce of strength to hold onto the weapon. She saw how the gun was now pointed in her direction, with Raoul's finger still placed upon the trigger.

All too late, she saw how she was standing in a possibly fatal spot.

And then, she saw how Raoul tensed once more when Erik tightened the rope again, and that caused him to unconsciously squeeze the trigger of the revolver, the deafening shot making them all jump.

All three men's heads snapped up in Christine's direction, and as each of their expressions turned to horror, her eyebrows came together in confusion. She felt fine. The bullet had obviously missed her; otherwise she would be dead or in terrible pain…

It was not until she felt wetness dripping down her left arm that she began to feel a stinging just below her shoulder.

Christine examined her arm, wincing when she lifted it slightly and it burned in protest. Deep crimson seeped through the thin fabric of her robe, and she looked at it with a blank expression. She could not feel anything, now. The numbness had found it's way back to her and she welcomed it with a peaceful smile. She knew what would likely happen now. She met the distressed, scorching eyes of her husband.

"I love you, Erik," she breathed.

Then, she met Raoul's crazed, devastated eyes, and whispered, "Goodbye, Raoul."

And that is when she fell over the edge, accepting the fact that she was not strong enough to fight any longer, and her eyes fluttered closed as she crumpled to the floor. The last sound that registered in her ears before she fell under completely was Raoul's agonized cry of her name, and it being cut off by the sound of another gunshot.


	30. Chapter 30

**Last chapter before the epilogue! Ahh! I seriously cannot thank you all enough for the support I received with this fic. It was unexpected, and I can definitely say that I NEVER would have been able to finish it without the encouragement I got from reviews, favorites, follows, and DMs. I appreciate it more than you will ever know. :')**

 **Again, a few changes from the original in this chapter as well, and I hope everyone enjoys. Trigger warning for one brief mention of suicide.**

 **Thank you, thank you, thank you all. So much. Don't forget to leave me a review. :)**

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Chapter 30

At first, there was only blackness. But then, while she was under, Christine dreamed. It started as a faint flickering of images: some happy, some not. An arrangement of flowers, a hate-filled glare, a carefree smile, a face flushed with anger, a pair of loving, ocean eyes, a gun, a basket of berries. She forgot each of them as quickly as they came, and then, the dream transformed. Soon, she was standing in a beautiful field in summertime, the sky a breathtaking blue and the sun warm on her skin.

She smiled, inhaling, loving how the breeze blew tendrils of hair about her face and tickled her nose. She could not seem to remember anything that had happened leading up to this moment. She could not even seem to remember who she was. But, of course, she remembered Erik. Where was he?

On some instinct that she did not quite understand, she placed a hand against her belly, but was confused when she found it flat and empty. What…?

Then, she heard laughter. It no doubt came from a child with its high-pitched, carefree merriment. Christine's head turned to see a little boy, no more than three years, running clumsily through the bright green grass, and she quickly recognized that he was hers.

 _Oh!_ She remembered she had been pregnant.

The boy had curly brown hair and eyes that matched Erik's perfectly, and his adorable grin was contagious. When his bright blue eyes met hers, both of their smiles widened. "Hi Mama!" he screamed, waving to her as he ran. Christine waved back, and was pleasantly surprised when she saw Erik appear, chasing after their son and laughing heartily.

He looked so…different. So happy and carefree. Of course, she had seen glimpses of this before when it was just the two of them, but it seemed to have been multiplied immensely. Was it his newfound fatherhood? He did not wear his usual disguise, and yet he did not seem any less confident or comfortable.

He was…beautiful.

"You better run faster, Gustave, or I will catch you!" Erik shouted playfully, and then winked at Christine with a grin as he passed. The little boy squealed in delight and ran as fast as he could, until they both slowly faded in the distance.

Her heart filled with warmth and her eyes grew wet at the corners. "Gustave," she whispered. Her father's name, of course! Had the thought of names really not entered her mind up until this moment? Strange, but Gustave was the perfect name for her son.

Oh, how perfect everything seemed.

Except, she began to feel a burning on her arm. How strange, for when she looked at it, it appeared perfect. But the burning got worse and worse, and she moaned in discomfort. Her vision faded to black, and she blinked repeatedly, trying to bring it back. There was pressure on her arm, like someone was touching it, and she cried out. Someone shushed her gently.

That is when she came to, quite reluctantly. Christine thought it a pity that her perfect vision had all been a dream. Reality did not seem near as sweet at the moment. Instead it seemed dreadfully uncomfortable.

She could tell that she was lying on something hard and cold without even opening her eyes. Her right hand was warm; she recognized the feel of skin against skin, and she wondered if it was Erik holding it. But then who was fussing about her arm? She felt pressure again, and she moaned in annoyance and pain, trying to open her heavy eyes.

"She is coming to," Christine heard a woman's voice say in a low murmur, quickly recognizing it as Madame Giry's. How did she get to…where was she, anyway? Where had they been?

It all came rushing back in Christine's head: Raoul's madness, Erik's bloodlust, the gun. She had actually been shot.

And there had been another shot just as she lost consciousness.

 _Oh God, Erik!_

Her eyes snapped opened and she first saw Madame faintly in the dim room. The woman was clad in her nightclothes, and her usual neat braid was completely absent, leaving her hair to fall like auburn waves around her face. She was the one holding Christine's hand. Frantically searching around her, Christine realized she was lying on a table in Madame Giry's little dining room.

Christine was about to ask the woman about her husband when she felt a painful pressure on her arm. "Ah!" she winced, and turned to assess it. Her heart nearly exploded in her chest when she was met with Erik's scolding eyes for a brief second before he turned back to his work. _Erik! He was alive!_ Relief flooded her, and she choked back the sob that threatened.

Did that mean that Erik had somehow gotten the gun and shot…?

"Hush," he demanded when she whimpered in pain again. "And be still." He was visibly tense. His wig was disheveled, his mask slightly askew. But there was something else in his eyes when they had met for that short moment. Fear? Nervousness? "Madame," he commanded.

The woman nodded, and produced a small bottle of amber liquid. "Drink," she said as she lifted Christine's head a bit and tilted the bottle to her lips. Christine obeyed, and winced when the liquid burned going down her throat. She spluttered and coughed, and drank some more, beginning to enjoy the warmth that spread through her belly. Madame Giry set the bottle aside, and wiped the liquid that had escaped Christine's mouth with a handkerchief.

Christine flushed, though whether it was the effect of the whiskey or the embarrassment from being handled like an invalid, she was unsure. "Thank you," she whispered to the woman gratefully, and then turned her head in Erik's direction. "What are you doing?" she asked, annoyed with the pain at his attentions.

He sighed, frustrated, and it was almost a growl. "I am stitching your wound, obviously," he said through clenched teeth. "I said _hush_."

 _Stitching. Oh no._ "How bad am I?" she wondered anxiously, wincing away from her arm. She almost expected Erik to snap at her again.

"You are fine," he assured her quickly, his voice holding annoyance. "The bullet grazed you just so that you bled a bit. But I will be done in mere minutes if you would just be still."

Christine breathed deeply, trying to ignore the tugging and occasional sharp pains in her arm. She focused on Madame Giry's unreadable expression, and she had to focus especially hard now that her head spun. The woman's eyes were alert, despite the fact that it was still the middle of the night. Or was it morning by now? The windows had heavy, dark curtains covering them, so it was hard to say.

She could feel the memories of what had transpired that evening trying to creep into her mind, but she repressed them with all of her might. She did not think she was strong enough to face it all just yet. Maybe, if she could just wait until her and Erik were alone, safe in their house, then they could face everything together.

Christine gave Madame Giry's hand a squeeze. "I am terribly sorry for waking you up like this, Madame," she said with a sheepish smile.

The woman shook her head slightly, her expression still hard to decipher. " _You_ have nothing to apologize for, my dear girl. You are not the one who woke me." She then gave a hard look in Erik's direction, but he seemed to deliberately ignore it. Christine wondered what state he must have been in when he got here, and she shot another apologetic glance to Madame.

They were silent for a while, save for Christine's heavy breathing and frequent, pained hisses. Though she had the urge to, she refrained from moaning in discomfort, knowing that it would not help anything and would only stress Erik more.

Finally, with a one last _snip_ , Erik was done stitching her, and she watched as he dipped a brush into some syrupy substance and spread it over her wound. Whatever it was, it smelled terrible. "What is that?" Christine asked, her nose wrinkling.

"Salve," he grumbled. "Luckily Madame had some previously made. It will help with pain and with healing."

Christine's arm tingled, and then the pain slowly changed to numbness, already making her feel better. Goodness, what was in that stuff?

Erik bandaged her arm up tight, and Madame put the remaining salve in a jar for them to take home. Erik took it with a grateful nod, not meeting the woman's eyes. Madame slowly helped Christine sit up, and then stand. She was a little woozy from the drink, but she managed to stand upright, and take a few steps. Madame leant her a heavy, dark cloak to keep her warm and concealed for when they rode back, and Christine hugged the woman tightly in thanks, for everything she had done for them.

"Hurry up now," Madame Giry said as she pulled away from the embrace. "Before the sun comes up."

Ah, so it was still very early. Christine smiled at the woman and nodded as Erik checked outside to make sure everything was clear.

After a moment, he beckoned Christine with his hand, and she took it reluctantly. His dark mood was not making anything easier, and she was sure that the ride home was going to be an awkward one. Outside, the sky was still dark blue, but dawn was nearing with each passing second. Erik carefully lifted Christine onto Caesar, mounting himself right after, and they were on their way home.

* * *

The sun had just begun to rise as they approached the house. The sky was stunning, all pinks and oranges to the east and a darker blue to the west. Christine felt oddly peaceful for just a moment, and she savored every fleeting second.

She had been right about the journey home. Not a single word was uttered between the two of them, and she could tell Erik was touching her as little as possible. She fretted over that. Why was he being so careful? Did he think she was angry with him? Was _he_ angry with _her_? Was he in shock over what had happened? She just hoped that he would snap out of it soon, for both of their sakes.

Erik dismounted the horse, helping Christine down without a word or a glance, and then he was leading Caesar toward the barn. She sighed, looking after him wistfully. They would get through this. They just had to.

Tears of relief pricked at her eyes as she entered their home, a small smile on her lips. It felt like she had been gone for so long, though it had only been a day, and she finally felt safe again, and more than ready to collapse onto her beloved bed. To say that she was exhausted would be a drastic understatement.

Her feet dragged up the stairs. She was _so_ tired, but there were other human needs she needed to attend to before she could sleep. Christine cleaned up quickly as best as she could in the bathroom, being mindful of her sensitive, bandaged arm, and carefully slipped into clean undergarments and nightgown. Her room was beginning to brighten with the morning sun, and she shut the heavy drapes, blocking all the light.

With a sigh of relief, she sunk into the plush sheets, trying very hard not to think about all she would have to face when she woke.

* * *

After many, many hours of long, dreamless sleep, Christine awoke. Her arm burned and her head ached, and she knew that she would have to face Erik any minute now. Her stomach growled ravenously, and she supposed she could eat first, at least. She sighed heavily as she opened her eyes.

Her room was dim, lit only by a few flickering candles that Erik had obviously lit for her not too long ago. She could tell that there was no light coming through the curtains, and it was disorienting to realize that it was already night again, that she had slept the entire day away. But didn't she deserve a day in bed, considering all she had been through?

Christine stretched her stiff muscles, wincing when her arm stung in protest. Lying there, staring at the ceiling, she felt those familiar little twitches in her belly, and she rubbed them lovingly for a while before finally sitting up. She stood with care, moaning in discomfort when her head pounded in response.

"Are you in pain?" a low voice murmured from across the room. Christine nearly yelped in surprise, jumping slightly. She finally made out the shape of Erik standing against the wall next to the bedroom door.

She placed a hand over her now racing heart. "My God, Erik," she gasped. "Why would you lurk in the corner like that?"

"I am not in the corner," was all he replied, his voice void of emotion.

"You know what I mean," she muttered hotly. "Just give me a moment to restart my heart."

"You did not answer my question."

Erik's white mask glowed in the candlelight, the only thing she could see of his face. It was unnerving, not being able to read his expression, or see his eyes. His voice never gave himself away if he could help it, but his eyes often did.

"My arm hurts," she admitted, taking a couple slow steps toward him. "But I need to eat before anything else. I am starving."

"I thought you might say that. I brought you breakfast." He gestured to the end table that had atop it, indeed, a tray of food and tea on it.

"Oh, thank you, Erik."

He lifted the tray and set in on the bed a few feet from where she stood. "I…will leave you to eat. I will return with supplies." With that, he strode from the room, closing the door behind him.

Without wasting time on stressing over his attitude, Christine dug in to her food, focusing on this task instead. She would repress the negative as long as she could.

Eating could only take so long, however, and Christine was finished by the time Erik returned, his face impassive. He paused by the bed where she sat, as if needing permission to assist her, and her eyebrows furrowed. She held her arm out expectantly, and he finally sat down next to her and got to work.

They were alone in their home. They were safe. Christine had food and tea in her belly, and that alone made her feel much better. Erik was with her.

It was time to face everything, she realized.

Christine took a deep breath, and she was just about to start speaking when Erik stopped her with a point of his finger in the air.

"Wait until I finish," he commanded gruffly, and she supposed that _would_ be a good idea. Flushing, she clamped her mouth shut, and simply waited in the awkward silence. Erik applied more of that awful smelling, miracle working salve and changed her bandages. With a numb and tingly feeling replacing the pain in her arm, she felt much better. But her stomach twisted with nervousness, and she prayed silently that they could get through the conversation without either of them losing it.

With a shaky sigh, Erik finished with her arm, and set the used supplies on the floor. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his torso in her direction, and finally met her eyes. His stoical face was harder to read than ever, especially with his mask on. Christine made her intentions clear with a look as she slowly reached for his disguise, and he did not move or protest and she gently removed his mask, followed by his wig.

There was unmistakable fear in Erik's eyes, and Christine smiled sadly at him as she caressed both sides of his bare face. "Talk to me, my love," she pleaded.

"You would still call me that?" he whispered back, almost bitterly.

His question brought a lump in her throat. "Of course."

"But, Christine…I…"

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. Then, she took a deep breath, and faced what she had been dreading so long. "You killed Raoul," she stated. It was not a question. She had known what Erik would do as soon as she realized Raoul had accidentally shot her, had seen the intention clear in Erik's eyes before it had even happened.

Erik waited, his face back to its emotionless mask. It was almost worse than his actual mask.

"Well?" Christine demanded. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Of course," he spat, shaking his head, his face crumpling in self-loathing. "Of course you would assume that. I know that I cannot blame you, being the monster that I am, but…I had hoped you would perhaps _ask_ me first."

"Erik…what?" Her stomach dropped. "What are you saying? I heard the second gunshot!"

"The Vicomte is dead, my dear," he sneered. "But not by my hand. The poor bastard shot _himself_."

 _Oh, no…_ Christine could see in his pained, blazing eyes that Erik was telling the truth, and she had just accused him of something he had not done. She shook her head, slowly, pleading to him with her brown eyes.

"Oh, Erik," she breathed, voice thick with sorrow. "I did not…I am so sor—"

"No!" he shouted, cutting her off and making her jump. "I may not have been the one to pull the trigger, but I would have! Do you hear me?" He grabbed her uninjured arm, pulling her to him so that he could growl in her face. "If he had not shot himself, I would have snapped his pathetic neck with my lasso without hesitation, Christine!" He breathed heavily, and she began to cry, feeling awful for accusing her husband and for the betrayal he must be feeling now. "Yes, yes! Cry for the monster that frightens you so!" His voice broke, giving away his emotion, and she shook her head.

"You are not a monster," Christine wept, crushing herself to him in a desperate embrace. "Oh, Erik. I am the monster for assuming…I am so, so sorry, my love."

"Stop it," he whined, and she felt him shudder with sobs as he held her. "Oh, Christine. My angel. I was so…when he shot you, I…" He held her tighter to him, and he need not have gone on. She knew exactly what he was trying to say, and they both cried wordlessly for a while.

"I know," she eventually whispered shakily, stroking his thin hair. "I was scared, too. But I am all right, Erik. _We_ are all right. The three of us are going to be just fine."

And as the words came out of her mouth, she felt a nudge in her lower abdomen, and she knew that they were true words. They _were_ going to be fine. They were safe, now. Though of course she would mourn the death of her old lover and childhood sweetheart gone mad, Christine knew that nothing else would come in their way, and they were finally free to live their lives without worry.

Erik seemed to have made that same realization, and he began kissing her desperately, first her neck where his face had been buried, then her jaw, and then her mouth with a needy moan. Christine's hands tangled in his sparse hair as she kissed him back, his deliciousness bringing a whimper from her throat. Oh, how she loved him, how she _wanted_ him still. She could not seem to ever get close enough to him.

And Christine knew that that would never, ever change.


	31. Chapter 31

**Again, thank you all so much for reading! Keep an eye out for part two of the epilogue, coming soon. ;)**

* * *

Epilogue- Part One

 _10 years later_

Applause, thunderous and encompassing, surrounded her for a few glorious minutes. Christine had nearly forgotten the rush that came with performing, and to experience it again was…exhilarating. Amazing. Flowers were thrown at her feet, and a beaming smile was fixed on her face, happy tears swimming in her eyes. She looked up and to her left, and there he was: Her husband, standing up in a private opera box with their two children at either of his sides, all three of of them applauding for her.

Only a year after their first-born, Gustave, had entered the world, Madame Giry had informed them that there was to be a design contest for the rebuilding of the Opera Populaire. The winner would receive total creative control over the building, but would have to work with the budget provided by the man in charge, a Monsieur Lafarge: a flamboyant, rich Frenchman who loved opera and heavily supported the arts.

Erik had not considered entering even a little bit, but of course Christine encouraged him to.

"This is your chance, Erik," she had said to him, a little Gustave in her lap, tugging on her curls. "This is your chance to start over. Build a new life and name for yourself."

"Why, pray tell, would I want either of those things? I am happy the way things are," he had replied stubbornly, but with so much love in his eyes as he gazed at the two of them.

"I only have a feeling that this could be great for us. That is all." She had shrugged. "Don't you think so too, little Gustave?" At his mother addressing him, the baby had giggled and cooed, and she had laughed back lovingly.

Eventually, Erik had agreed to at least entering. Most of Paris thought him long dead anyway, and no one save for Madame Giry and Christine knew his actual name.

But of course, Erik won. Before the first meeting with Monsieur Lafarge, Erik had constructed a flesh-toned mask that matched his skin color near to perfection. It was so astoundingly natural that it allowed him to look normal when face to face with anyone involved. Of course, they had come up with an excuse if anyone should look too closely and notice something amiss. He would simply tell them that it was covering an injury.

Everything went without issue. Erik's new mask was so realistic that there was rarely an inquisition about it, and once the opera house was finished, Erik and Christine were welcome patrons and even had their own box.

Of course, people recognized Christine, and they were _very_ inquisitive about that fateful night of _Don Juan Triumphant_ that she had gone missing. Christine had previously come up with a story that she thought, hopefully, everyone would believe: When she disappeared after the Phantom's opera, she had fled home to Sweden on her own when the Phantom set her free. She had just been too distressed over the events to stay with Raoul, and needed to be alone for a while. Sweden is where she had met her husband, Monsieur Destler, and they had come back to Paris when she became pregnant because she had missed it so and wanted to raise their child here.

She had to feign innocent surprise when people would tell her the news of the Vicomte's death, and that he had been frantically searching for her for months after her disappearance. It was not difficult for her to produce tears when needed, for the events still haunted Christine every so often anyway. The guilt and pain of the entire ordeal was just something she lived with.

Other than that unpleasant part of her life, Christine could not have been happier. Their second child—a bronze haired, brown-eyed, serious little girl—came when Gustave turned five. Christine offered that Erik name her, since she had named Gustave, and after just a few seconds of staring at the newborn baby's face, Erik had whispered in awe, "Melody."

And so she was called Melody.

Christine had never considered returning to the stage, even when Erik became the manager of the Populaire. Her children kept her busy enough, and though her voice had only continued to soar after years of guidance from Erik, she knew she would only find enjoyment singing for him and for her children, not for the world.

It was quickly obvious to Erik that, though Monsieur Lafarge had enjoyed watching opera, he did not know much about the actual craft. Erik had offered to give him pointers, proposing to guide him along the way, an the moment Lafarge realized that Erik knew a great deal about the craft of opera, he had offered him the job of manager on the spot. Erik had vehemently told him no, but Lafarge told him to think about it and come back with, hopefully, a different answer.

With more encouragement from Christine, Erik eventually accepted. At first he was very against it. He had spent most of his life in solitude, and should he accept he would have to spend a lot his time talking to and directing people. Of course, many of those interactions would be demands, but still, he was extremely hesitant. Christine thought he should go for it. It was finally his chance to live a normal life, like he had wanted all along. He would finally get to share his talent with the world. She ended up convincing him, and with how well everything else had been going, he had finally decided he would do it.

Erik thrived as manager. His fatherhood had taught him patience, and, dare she say, kindness. Still, he was firm and direct, just as he was when he was just her voice teacher, and the new opera house was extremely successful under his direction.

When Christine was not keeping the children, she helped around the opera house as well. Sometimes she would shadow Madame Giry, who had reclaimed her title as ballet mistress, and others she would serve as support for the young women of the opera. Having been in their shoes, Christine was there for the young girls with encouraging words, comforting smiles, and helpful advice.

The leading soprano, a cheerful powerhouse named Madame Bernard, had fallen ill a mere three days before the premier of _Faust_. When Erik could not find another to fulfill the role, he had begged Christine to step in. He had always thought she would be a perfect Marguerite; even now that she was ten years older. He still saw her as youthful and exquisite as the day she had made her debut in _Hannibal_ , as he would often remind her. She had been reluctant at first; having been away from the stage for such a long time, but she would at least have a few days to practice and she knew it would please Erik and help him immensely. And that is why she had performed tonight, and would perform until Madame Bernard was well enough to take back her place.

After the curtain call, Christine hastily changed out of her costume, and was met by her children's embraces as soon as she came out of the dressing room door.

"You were wonderful, Mother," Gustave exclaimed as he squeezed her waist and stood on his toes to kiss her cheek. Goodness, he was getting so tall! Christine beamed at the praise and kissed his curls in return.

Melody tugged on her skirt, trying to gain her attention. "Really Mama, you were enchanting," she told her seriously in her sweet, melodic voice, looking up at her. "However, you must tell Papa to find a new percussionist immediately. That man was off beat with every cue he had." She shook her head in annoyance.

Christine laughed, amazed at her young daughter's ear for that sort of thing, at such a young age! She was so much like Erik, and it warmed Christine's heart.

"Come," she said to the both of them, taking their hands. "It is way past your bed time and Papa will be waiting in the carriage. And do not forget to thank him for allowing you to come for one night. It took me days to convince him."

"Yes Mother," they murmured in unison.

As they made their way outside, the children chattered happily about the opera and their favorite parts. Christine took them through a side entrance, knowing the main halls and lobby would be flooded with people just waiting to talk her ear off. Not tonight, she thought. Tonight she just wanted to take her darling kids home and collapse into bed with Erik at her side.

The moon was shining full and bright as they walked to their carriage, and Christine could see Erik talking with their driver as they approached. After all the time they had been married, the thrill from seeing her husband had never eased. She wanted nothing more than to pull him into a warm embrace and have him kiss her right then.

Instead, he helped her and the children into the cab before getting in himself. As the children bickered back and forth playfully, Erik took Christine's hand and kissed her knuckles. Her stomach fluttered.

"You were absolutely wonderful," he murmured, voice slightly awed and full of warmth.

"Thank you, my love," Christine replied, leaning her head on his shoulder. "It was all for you."

"Thank you for letting us come tonight, Papa!" Melody said, and Gustave followed with a, "Yes, thank you!"

Erik nodded once. "And what did you two think of your Mother's performance?"

The two of them talked over one another saying how great she was and how amazing the entire opera was and Erik chuckled, nodding. Christine blushed at all of the praise.

Life was very happy for all of them. Christine and Erik had taken to parenthood quite well, surprisingly. Of course it was difficult, but the good always surpassed the bad. Gustave was a gentle little fellow, but with a liking for sports and physical activities. He was very charming, well mannered, always having a smile on his face and always willing to be a helpful older brother. Though he had a nice singing voice and enjoyed when others sang, he did not care much for doing it himself.

Melody, however, adored singing, and her sweet little voice made Christine's eyes fill with awed tears nearly every time she opened her mouth to release a note. She definitely had a natural talent, and Erik had already begun giving her voice lessons. Christine might have protested against it if it were not for Melody's profound desire to learn. The child had badgered Erik for months before he finally agreed to teach her, after Christine approved. The unique little girl was surprisingly focused during lessons, despite her young age. She also took criticism well and seriously, never getting offended or crying.

Christine was sure her heart had grown to three times its original size since she had had children. The love was sometimes overwhelming and scary, but oh so worth it.

By the time they made it home, the children had nodded off. Gustave was such a heavy sleeper that they knew they would never get him inside without carrying him, so Erik quickly paid the driver and lifted the boy from the cab gently. Christine carried Melody inside with ease, as she was a tiny little thing, and once both children were tucked in bed, Erik and Christine held hands as they made their way to their bedroom.

"Are you very tired?" Erik asked, after they were both dressed in their nightclothes.

"I gave you my soul tonight," she sighed, falling down onto the bed. "I am dead."

"Nonsense," Erik lied down next to her and placed his hand against her chest, feeling her heartbeat. "My wife is very much alive."

He leaned over to kiss her, and she cupped his unmasked face and returned it with fervor.

Erik rarely ever wore his usual disguise when they were in the safety of their home anymore. Christine had remembered the shouting fight they had had right before Gustave was born.

"Erik, I do not think you should wear your mask at all when the baby arrives," she had broached hesitantly one night, rubbing her swollen belly.

His eyes had widened, and then he had replied angrily. "Excuse me? Are…are you mad, Christine? Do you think I want my own child to be _frightened of me_?"

It had taken hours of convincing that their baby would not be afraid if it was familiar with his face from the day it was born before he finally understood. After shouting and tears and anger, he had eventually admitted with reluctance that she was right, and he never wore his mask or wig inside the house anymore, save for when Madame Giry would visit.

The children knew that their father had been born special, and they never looked on his face with fear. That was the face of their Papa, the one they had known their whole lives. They were a little confused when Christine explained to them why he wore a disguise whenever they would leave the house, but Gustave was old enough now to understand now. Melody still questioned why she had to keep his face a secret, but she would learn as time went on, Christine was sure.

"Christine?" Erik broke their kiss and sat up, tearing her from her memory.

"Hmm?"

His ocean eyes blazed into her with an intensity that never ceased to make her tremble. "I…do not know how I could ever thank you…for what you have given me." His struggle for words was so unlike him, and she sat up as well, taking his rough, warm hands into hers with concern.

"What do you mean, Erik?"

Erik's voice was low, thick with emotion. "Everything, Christine. For tonight, singing for me as you did. It was…" He paused, seeming to be at a loss for words. "And…thank you for giving me those two ghastly, wonderful children." She laughed breathlessly, trying to hold back the happy tears that threatened. "For marrying me and wanting me. If I somehow live a thousand years, I would still never be able to comprehend it all. You are…good, so loving and beautiful, my Christine. Everything I am not."

Christine stopped him with a gentle finger on his lips. "Oh, Erik," she breathed. "But you are all of those things. I know you are." She paused, swallowing, looking on him with never ending desire. "And what about what you have given me? Passion, love, _music…_ " Not allowing her to finish, he kissed her with so much desperation that it was almost bewildering, and her fingers tangled into his hair as she kissed him back with equal need.

Erik had not believed her words. She had seen it in his eyes the moment before he kissed her and felt it in him as he did. After all this time, he still needed reassurance from her. His wounds were rooted very, very deep, and it broke her heart.

But it was all right. Christine would supply as much love and assurance as he needed, whenever he needed it, until he finally believed her. Someday, he would. She would spend the rest of their lives convincing him.


End file.
